Under the Skin
by GoldenRoya
Summary: When Joey dies saving Kaiba's life, the whole YugiOh gang is thrown out of whack, especially Tristan. Meanwhile, Kaiba is facing down a killer who still wants him dead, and a company that is threatening to go under. Kaiba/Tristan POV. Dark, some violence.
1. In Which: Kaiba Becomes Big Game

**Warning: **Character death. A lot of blood. Cliffhanger ahead.** Kaiba**/Tristan POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found on this site (for some reason this thing won't let me add the url...). I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Note: **Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom, before Battle City (mostly because I only own Seasons 1 & 5...)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No limos were harmed in the making of this fic.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

Detention. That little _prick_ got me detention!

I groused the entire way out of the school. It was raining.

Naturally.

I flipped open my cell phone and called for my driver. Rank hath its privileges. The limo picked me up and we were on our way to pick up my little brother before I'd barely gotten damp.

Wouldn't have been an issue if the little chihuahua had just kept his mouth to himself. Or if I could've just kept _my _idiotic mouth shut. What is it about Wheeler that makes me just have to snipe back at him every time he takes a pot shot at me? 'Moneybags,' indeed. Still, I can't afford to act like a child, not even in high school.

Mokuba was waiting when we pulled up, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw me in the back seat. Guess it _has _been a long time since I picked him up from school. _Sorry, kid. _Maybe Wheeler isn't such a jerk after all.

Well, well, well. Speak of the devil. I'd know that jacket anywhere. It was Wheeler, walking home, soaking in the rain. I considered rolling down the window to taunt him - the wonderful world of wet-dog-related humor lay wide open before me - but I let it pass. Too childish.

"Hey, big brother! Want to play a game tonight, or something?"

I grinned at Mokuba. He's the only one I know who can make me smile like that. I thought about all the work waiting for me at the office - even more, since I'd had to stay late at school. He could see me gearing up to say no, and his face fell. Darn it. I _hate _to disappoint him. "Sure," I told him. His face got all bright once again, and I knew that I'd been ignoring him for far too long. _Sorry, sorry…_ One quick game, and I could stay up late, finishing my work. That's what laptops were for, after all.

"We can play Duel- What's that?" He pointed over my head, out the back window.

Smoke. Smoke! I pounded on the partition. "Gerry! Gerry, pull over! Yahh!" I screamed as the front compartment burst into flames.

Mokuba started screaming as I lunged for the door, wrestling with it. It was armor plated, solid, and not going anywhere. I kicked at it, willing it to move. My brother and I were both coughing now, smoke filling the limo's interior, making it hard to breathe. My lungs were on fire, and Mokuba looked like he was passing out. I slammed on the door with my feet, trying to kick it open.

"Kaiba!" It was Wheeler! What was that dumb mutt doing out there; didn't he know that the car could blow up any second? "You push and I'll pull!" he yelled.

I didn't waste my breath replying, I just started hammering away. Ten heart-stopping seconds later, the door was flying off. "Mokuba!" He wasn't moving. I grabbed him and pulled, hauling him out of the car and as far away as I could drag him. "Mokuba!" _Oh, god, please don't be dead. I'll never forgive myself if you're dead…_ Wheeler shook my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. "Come on, kid, come back to me…" My kid brother coughed weakly, and I could feel my shoulders slump with relief. Not dead. Alive. Thank god.

_Click._ It was a quiet sound. Almost, one could ignore it, in the pattering of the rain on the pavement and the roaring of the fire and the pops and dings of warping metal.

Almost, but I knew what that sound was. It was the sound of a gun being cocked. A gun that was very, very close.

I spun around, trying to cover my brother, to protect him. I saw Wheeler, facing me, and behind him, a man in a black trench coat, shotgun raised to his shoulder, taking aim at me.

"Get down!" I tried to yell, but at that instant, the gunman pulled the trigger. "No!"

I flung myself over Mokuba, knowing that I was too late, spine tingling, expecting a white-hot slug to rip through my back and plunge into my little brother.

I heard the shot, heard it hit, heard the _squelch_ of blood and tissue being torn to shreds… but felt nothing.

I blinked. Point-blank range. He couldn't have missed. Maybe it was a warning shot?

Looked up. Saw the gunman staring at me, then up the street where sirens were blaring, then down at his feet. Then he took off, running scared.

Surging to my feet, I lunged after him. Nobody takes a shot at me or my family and lives to brag about it!

Only my feet got tangled and I went down. Right on top of Joey Wheeler.

Who had a massive hole through his belly.

_He didn't miss_, a detached part of my brain observed. _Wheeler just got in the way. Again._

"…K-Kaiba?"

_What th- He's alive?_ I didn't think anybody could lose that much blood and survive. The sidewalk is coated with it. But maybe…maybe it's just that it mixed with the rain, that would make it look like there's more than there actually is. That has to be it.

But Wheeler was shot in the back…

Down on the sidewalk I go. I know it's not the right way to do things, but I've only got two hands and there's two wounds to hold pressure on, to try and stop the bleeding. I wedged his body up close to mine, hoping that his weight would help close the entry wound, while I reached around front, pressing my shirt to the hole in his abdomen. I can't even remember when I took it off.

"Damn it, Wheeler," I muttered to him. "Don't you die. Don't you dare die on me. I owe you my life; don't you dare die and leave me in debt. You live, you hear me!"

He coughed, and blood leaked from between his lips. He tried to speak, but I couldn't understand. "Shut up," I told him. "Don't try to talk. Fight it, Wheeler! You're too stubborn to die like this, on the street! Stay with me, damn it, stay with me!"

I push harder. We're soaked. The rain kept beating down, so cold. My hair's plastered to my head, and Wheeler's clothes are all soaked through. The rain - that has to be why my hands are wet, why they're slippery.

Doesn't explain why they're warm, though.

Sirens. They finally reach us. Police first, then firefighters. Finally, finally, an ambulance. "Here!" I yell. "Over here!"

One crew takes Joey. "He's been shot in the back," I tell them, struggling for composure. "Single shot, rifle, close range. Exit wound's through the abdomen. Left upper quadrant." I'm not even sure what I'm saying.

They haul him off of me, and I turn to watch the second crew hurrying towards me. "No," I tell them, waving them towards Mokuba. Mokuba. I'd almost forgotten him. How had I almost forgotten him? "My little brother needs more help than I do. He's unconscious. Smoke inhalation. Maybe burns." Maybe worse?

"Sir, I really think I ought to see you first. You're bleeding."

I look down at myself. Bleeding? From what? I hadn't been hit.

The front of my coat is soaked in blood. It's smeared down my chest, puddled on my trousers, dripping down on my shoes.

I blink. _Joey…_ He'd lost all that? I didn't think that the human body held that much blood.

The world stops. I just… stop. Standing there, staring, at the body of the boy - the man - who'd just saved my life, as the medical workers crawl over him, hooking him up to tubes, wires, scuttling like beetles, trying to keep the spark of life in him. A second crew works on Mokuba, hooking up oxygen, stringing him with monitors. His eyes are closed. He looks so small, with a half dozen people kneeling around him.

And me, standing in the middle of the hurried frenzy, still as stone. My hands, scarlet with blood, hang at my sides. Little rivulets of rain slowly collect on my fingertips to drip, redly, to the pavement below, before being washed away into the gutter in a crimson tide.


	2. In Which: Kaiba Attends a Funeral

**Warning: **Character death. **Kaiba**/Tristan POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site (for some reason I can't get the url to show up...). I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Note:** Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom and before Battle City.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No caskets were harmed in the making of this fic.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

**Chapter Two: In Which: I Come to an Awful Realization**

I attended two funerals that week.

The first one was the easiest, though not easy. Gerry had been with me for five years, since before my takeover of Kaiba Corp. He'd driven me to the building the morning that I'd told my adoptive father that his company was mine. He'd been as much of a friend to me as a CEO and a driver could be.

I gave his wife the check personally: his pension, and a bonus for faithful service. I'd doubled it, out of my own pocket, and added more. Death benefit, I called it. Hazard pay. What else could I do? I couldn't bring him back. I couldn't have saved him. He'd stopped screaming even before Mokuba and I had cleared the car. The doctors at the hospital told me that he'd died instantly, felt no pain. Liars. Such liars. I saw the body. His legs had been charred, while his face was - well, not untouched, but there was still some flesh there. He'd died feeling his legs burning away.

Or maybe he'd passed out first, from the pain. Maybe he really didn't feel anything. That's what I told Mokuba, anyway, and he'd been glad to believe me. I was his big brother, after all. Why would I lie to him?

Gerry's wife had taken the check without a word, without a blink.

His mother cursed me to my face. Spat at me, and called me the vicious son of a male whore and a rabid bitch.

Not that I deserved any less, for getting her son killed.

Joey's funeral was… it was the hardest thing I'd had to do in my life.

What do you say over the body of the person who'd died saved your life? Thank you? Trite. I'm sorry? Even worse. I owe you? My god. Even the thought of writing out a check to his parents made me ill. How much would be enough? How much did I value his sacrifice? Money… money. What the hell is money, anyway? I owed him far more than a figure. I owed him a debt that I could never repay.

The service was an insight into the Life of Wheeler. His father was sober; he swore on Joey's casket that he would stay that way, to honor him. His mother was stunned. His sister wept. His friends…

Yugi made a great speech. Heartfelt. Touching. He started to cry halfway through and stopped, putting on his game face to finish, to swear that friendship never dies, and he would honor his memory forever. Tea promised him that he would never be forgotten. Tristan stood by the coffin for a long minute, said, "So long, buddy," and sat down, Tea on one side, Yugi on the other, supporting each other.

Joey was more popular than I'd thought. There were a lot of people there. Lots of duelists. People from school. People I didn't recognize. My security guys must have been going crazy. They'd tried to talk me out of coming, the psycho who'd blown up my car was still after me, but by God, I was not going to let them put Wheeler in the ground without paying my final respects.

I stood at last. Steeled my nerves. Walked up to the casket. People always say that the dead look like they're sleeping. How the hell do they get that impression? He was dead. There's no way that sleeping looks like death, or that death looks like sleeping. It's a fallacy, that people tell themselves so that they'll feel better about it. Why would anyone put someone who didn't look genuinely dead in the ground?

Mokuba touched my arm, and I realized that I was staring at Wheeler, my hand gripping the side of the casket so hard that my fingers hurt. I let go like it was on fire. Composed myself. Wrenched my features back under control. Hesitated.

Touched Mokuba on the shoulder with one hand while sliding the other into the coffin. Tucked the object I'd hidden in my sleeve down among the padding. Turned and went back to my seat without saying a word. Sorry, Wheeler. Guess I couldn't think of the right thing to say after all. Your life for mine. Looking at all these people… not sure if it was a fair trade. Who'd be at _my _funeral, if that psychopath hadn't missed? Mokuba. And… that's it. My little brother. Small service, big headstone. _Here lies Seto Kaiba. He was a friendless, pompous ass. _Some epitaph. Whereas you, Joey… you earned yours.

_Joseph Wheeler. Son, Brother, Friend, Duelist. You will be missed._

I got through the rest of it on autopilot. I can't face his family. Yugi tried to catch my gaze, but I can't face him either. I fled as soon as I could possibly justify it to myself. _Got to get back to work,_ I tell myself. _Maybe the private investigator's found something. Maybe they've tracked down his killer._

And maybe I've realized the limits of my courage. Face mystical eyes and duel in weird situations that try the definition of reality, fine, sure, I can do that and still come out on top. Mouth platitudes to the people who loved the person who died for me, for someone they all hate? I'm sorry, but even _my _ego can't stand up to that.

The limo is desperately quiet as we drive away. New driver, new limo.

New day. New terrors.

And I can't help thinking, looking at Mokuba in his black suit, running my hand over my own dark mourning clothes, what's next? Because Joseph Wheeler may be dead and gone, but the psychopath who killed him is still out there. Still running, still looking.

Still hunting me.


	3. In Which: Tristan Vows Vengeance

**Warning: **Character death. **Kaiba**/Tristan POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site (for some reason I can't get the url to show up...). I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Note:** Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom and before Battle City.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No dueling cards were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Author note: **Oh, man! Sorry it's been so long since I updated, everyone! Real life sux. I promise, the next chapter will be published sooner. *crosses heart*

Thanks for the review, Chevonne! An author always likes to know her work is appreciated. :D

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

**Chapter 3: In Which: Tristan Vows Vengeance**

_Gone. My best buddy's gone. Just like that. I don't... I just... How? _

The last time I saw him, he was headed to detention. He'd been baiting Kaiba again, even though he knew that Kaiba couldn't take a joke. Heh, that's why Joey did it - way too much fun making Rich Boy squirm. But the idiot just never knew when to leave it alone, he just kept picking and picking at ol' Moneybags, way past when he should've piped down and played the good student. Hell, I could never leave it alone, either, but I at least had the sense to make sure I didn't get caught. Joey, though... too much passion, that was his problem. Too much heart. He'd let himself get too involved, and he'd wind up in big trouble.

Of course, it was that passion that made him who he was. A great duelist. A great friend. A great man.

Tea would say - does say - that we should honor his memory, his friendship. She cries a lot, but she's so strong. She's really holding us, the group, together, like she always does. I admire her strength. I wish I could be more like her.

Or like Yugi, and Yami. Yugi cries, too, when he thinks no one can see, but they're strong tears. Those two, they protect one another, comfort each other. They really are best buds. Like Joey and I used to be.

Joey's dad gave Yugi his deck; Grandpa Moutou gave him a glass puzzle box for it. Yugi offered me Joey's Red Eyes Black Dragon card. I carry it all the time, but it's not the same. I'd give a hundred, a thousand Red Eyes cards if I could just see Joey again, talk to him. I spend a lot of time just staring into space, holding that card. Maybe… maybe since Joey loved it so much, he can hear me, wherever he is, when I touch it. I dunno.

I wish I'd been there, that day. I should've been. I should've stuck around after school, waited for him. I can't even remember what I thought was so important that I had to leave. If I'd been with him... I don't know. Coulda shoved the big lug outta the way maybe. Or tackled the gunman. Or something. The grief counselor calls it survivor's guilt. Don't know what I call it. Wishful thinking, maybe. That counselor is full of bull. I don't need to talk about it. I need to just forget it all. Memories are too painful…

It was Serenity that called me, that night.

She was sobbing so hard, I couldn't even tell what was wrong at first. I wanted to hug her, make it all better... make time with her. Okay, so sue me, I'm a guy.

I tried to tell her it was okay, calm down, everything's going to be alright. I could hop a bus and be over in a few minutes, don't worry.

She just cried harder. "It's not okay. It's never going to be okay again. It's Joey." She gulped hard, swallowing back her sobs. "He's... Oh, Tristan! He's dead!"

What a way to get the worst news of your life, huh?

I don't remember exactly what happened after that. I must've told Serenity I'd do the rest of the calls to Joey's friends, because I vaguely remember telling Bakura the news and asking if he'd call Mai. The only other picture I have of that night is holding Tea as she sobbed into my chest, and Yugi looking all shell-shocked in the corner.

What I don't get is Kaiba. I mean, Joey saved the guy's life, then died because of it. You'd think the ass would be grateful, or messed up, or _something_. You'd think that he'd be able to muster up more than that stony facade, that he'd actually be able to _feel. _Something. Anything. But no. No, Rich Boy can't be bothered to show anything so human as _remorse._

He was at the funeral. Didn't say a word. Didn't talk to anyone, didn't look at anyone, nothing. Just put in an appearance for form's sake and then bolted as soon as they started tossing earth. I don't even know why he troubled himself. It's not like Joey meant anything to _him_. He didn't even say a word to his parents, though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I swear, I'd've decked him myself right there over the coffin if he'd tried to use it for publicity. God, what an ass.

And then, the day after they put Joey into the ground, he's back at school, acting like nothing happened. Stone-cold Kaiba, that's what they ought to call him. Gets Joey Wheeler gunned down and carries on marching, same as ever, with no more feeling than a marble statue.

I hate him. God help me, I hate him. I sit in class and stare at the back of his head and I wish that I had a gun so I could shoot him down myself, just so that he'll know what Joey experienced, how Joey felt, bleeding to death in the arms of his enemy. I can't talk to anyone about it, especially not the counselor. I mean, geez, I'd wind up in a rubber room faster than you could say, 'Duel Monsters.' I tried to talk to Yugi, but he seems to think that Kaiba's more messed up than he's letting on. I think the little spike-head has slipped a few gears.

Lord knows why, but Yugi's been trying to make friends with him. Friends! Like he's trying to replace Joey with his worst enemy! I'd be mad, but... Heck, it's Yugi. He does that cute little-kid thing with his big eyes and his smile and... Hell. Being mad at him is like kicking a puppy. Which makes Kaiba's overt rebuffs of Yugi's attempts at friendship doubly frustrating. Every time he sneers at that kid's outstretched hand, Yugi's hair droops a bit.

So, today. Yugi somehow talked Kaiba into a game of Duel Monsters, old-school style, no holograms or lethal traps or shadow realms or anything for once, just a pair of duelists and their decks. I don't pretend to know much about the game, and it's harder to follow without the digital stuff helping the laymen out, but it looked like Yugi was doing pretty decent, leading by four hundred life points, and with Gaia the Fierce Knight and Silver Fang out on the field. He was more involved than I'd seen him in the three days since the funeral, the old spark back in his eyes. Even Kaiba was taking an interest in the game, smirking as he looked at his cards. He had his Witty Phantom on the field, but from the look on his face, something big was coming.

And we were not to be disappointed.

"I place one card face-down," he announced. "And I call forth the Blue Eyes White Dragon!"

Half of the onlooking crowd cheered the move. Kaiba ignored them and called the attack, taking out Gaia and dealing 700 points of damage.

Yugi countered with Swords of Revealing Light, freezing Kaiba's monsters for three turns, and placing his Giant Soldier of Stone. Kaiba merely grinned and laid his second Blue Eyes on the field, to the adulation of his fans. Even I had to admit, I was enjoying this. The Joey Wheeler Memorial Match, or something.

Tea groaned. "Oh, no, Yugi, look out! One more Blue Eyes and he can summon his Ultimate Dragon!"

It's weird. Kaiba's face suddenly clouded over, like Tea had said something wrong. He scowled and pushed back from the table. "Duel's over," he growled, scooping up his cards and stalking away, to the stunned silence of the crowd of witnesses.

I look at Yugi. I know he's won, since Kaiba just abandoned the playing field, but the expression on his face… He looks like he was just sucker-punched in the gut, like he's just lost Joey all over again.

That's it. I'm not going to be stupid about this, but one way or another, Kaiba is going down.

_Kaiba._ _You cannot treat my friends that way. I don't know why Yugi cares so much, but you can't keep making him think he's winning you over and then hurting him like that. I won't ever forgive you for everything you've done! Not to Yugi, and not to Joey. You will pay._

_You will pay._


	4. Which Includes: Planning and Initiation

**Warning: **Dark plans, some strong language, flying fists, blood. Kaiba/**Tristan** POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site, pity the link's not uploading *makes a face*. I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No students were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Author note: **Thanks to all my loyal readers! I know you're out there, since I can see the Hit and Visitor numbers going up… care to let me know who you are and how you like the fic? Reviews are much loved, and reviewers are added to my hugs list!

*Sorry this one is so short. Longer next time!

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

**Chapter Four: Planning and Initiation**

I wanted to run after Kaiba and deck him right then, pound him into the pavement and keep going until he joined Joey in the grave. But I didn't. It was like my determination gave me clarity of thought, direction of purpose. I was deliberate. Methodical. I thought ahead. Planned. I was one cold, hard bastard. I don't know what I looked like, but Yugi was alert enough to be concerned.

"Tristan?" He caught me after school. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, my mind elsewhere. "Nothing's wrong, Yugi. You okay?"

"Yeah, _I'm_ fine. You just...you look different, Tristan. What's going on in that head of yours?" He looked worried about me.

Damn. I hadn't wanted to worry Yugi. Poor kid had enough on his mind. "Nothing, Yugi. I'm fine. I promise." And I'll be even finer once I have Kaiba on the ground.

He touched my arm, biting his lip and searching my eyes. "Promise me you won't do anything rash, Tristan," he suddenly demanded. "Promise me you won't hurt yourself."

_Wha-a-a-at?_ He thought... He actually thought I might do myself in? My expression must not have been particularly reassuring, because he gripped my arm suddenly, staring into my eyes. "Tristan. Please. You've been distracted all day, more so than normal. You're planning something and we - Yami and I - we're worried that you might do something we'll all regret. Please, Tristan," he begged. "Don't hurt yourself. Don't do anything that will hurt all of us."

I'm _homicidal_, not _suicidal_. Important difference. "Yug'..." I gripped his arm in return. "I promise. I _swear_, I'm not going to hurt myself, or you, or Tea, or anyone I care about. Believe me, that's the last thing on my mind." I hadn't felt this alive since Joey died, in fact. _This one's for you, buddy._

Yugi didn't look convinced, but he let me go, reluctantly. "O-kay..."

"Yugi." I stared him in the eyes. "I promise. Everything's going to be okay." As soon as Kaiba pays for what he did to Joey. Once that debt is cleared, then the world will be alright again. I just knew it.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

Next day.

I put Phase One into action during Social Studies, the one class I share with Kaiba that doesn't have Tea or Yugi in it too. Bakura's there, but he shouldn't be a problem.

The clock is ticking...ticking...ticking... where is he? Damn, if Rich Boy is late, it'll throw off the timing for everything. Come on, Kaiba, get your butt in here...

Ha! There he is. I stand up to 'greet' him. "Kaiba."

"Taylor." He tries to push past me, but I don't let him. That trench coat doesn't scare me, and I grab him by the upper arm. "Let go, Taylor."

"You cold-blooded bastard." My voice is low, but I can tell that it's arrested the attention of everyone in the room. Bakura looks scared, but he's not interfering. Good. I go on. "Joey was worth a hundred of you. More. It should be you in that graveyard. You should be dead, not him!" I grab him by the shirtfront, shoving him up against the wall. _Woah boy, dial it back a notch. _Wouldn't do me any good to over-act this. _Hell, who's acting?_

Kaiba's face twists, snarling, his hands rising to grip my wrists. "Get your hands off of me, Taylor."

Rage. I'm so mad, I'm shaking. "Just tell me one thing," I demanded, voice low. "How much did you pay his parents? What price did you put on Joey's sacrifice?"

_Oh. Crap. _

I have time for exactly one thought before a flying fist takes me alongside the face, knocking me to the floor. With my hands still tangled in his shirt, I drag him down on top of me. He gets one more shot in before I explode with an uppercut to his jaw, rolling us both over so I can rain down blows from above.

He keeps us rolling, trapping me underneath again, slamming his fists into my face twice more before a pair of strong arms drags him off, still swinging. Panting in the reprieve, I wipe my hand gingerly across my face, spitting blood from a split lip.

"What seems to be the problem here, boys?" a gruff voice booms down from above.

I scramble to my feet in front of Mr. Takahashi, the teacher. Normally, I'd be scared to death to be caught fighting in front of him. Normally.

"Nothing, sir."

He nods. "Nothing. Right." Like he expected anything else. "I think it's detention for you both. Seto. Can I let you go now?" Rich Boy's still shaking, but he looks like he's reigned himself back under that damned control of his. Takahashi releases him back to his seat. "Tristan." He stares at me. My nose is bleeding, and I can feel my eye starting to swell. He shakes his head. "Go see the nurse."

I head out, avoiding Bakura's stare. Perfect. _Perfect. Phase One complete._


	5. In Which: Kaiba Goes Down the Drain

**Warning: **Some strong language, blood, hints of violence. **Kaiba**/Tristan POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site, pity the link's not uploading *makes a face*. I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No mystery meat (heavy on the mystery, questionable on the meat) patties were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Author note: **Thank you, all of you who read and (I really, really hope!) enjoy this fic! I'm so sorry it takes so long to get new chapters to you all; working full time really bites. Pleasepleaseplease write a review or two! I'd love to know what I'm doing 'write' and how I can improve!

~~~~~ *break* ~~~~~

**Chapter Five: Kaiba Goes Down the Drain**

_Damn it._

It was all I could do to not murder the little punk. 'How much did you pay?' My god, as if I could even put a _price_ on it! _The funeral…his parents…my hand, reaching into his coffin… _

I spent that class hour seething, hardly paying attention to the lecture. Mr. Takahashi's a decent guy, though; I think he knew how out of it I was, and he didn't call on me once. Which is another reason to swear; I just _hate_ it when people know I don't have full control. Lunchtime came and I put my time to good use, booting up my laptop and monitoring Kaiba Corp from the cafeteria.

Of course, if I'd hoped that diving into the business end of my life would calm me down any, then Taylor must have hit me harder than I thought.

The numbers danced past my eyes as I delved into my sandwich. Most high schoolers wouldn't have a clue what any of them meant, but reading spreadsheets was second nature to me by now. I frowned, following trends, clicking to different screens, frowning more, and clicking to more screens. Lunch forgotten, I traced the figures. _Damn. I thought I plugged that hole. And that one. How do my rivals keep finding my weaknesses? It's not as though I advertise._

Of course, the media had done a very good job of advertising for me. "Kaiba Corp CEO Narrowly Escapes Death," and "Gunman Targets Seto Kaiba." It's all I can do to keep them focused on the still-missing assassin, and away from the financial state of my company. Which, as far as I can tell, is swirling the drain as we speak.

I swore again. I hadn't sworn this much in... well, pretty much forever. There's a difference between a straight-up battle, facing your enemy and crushing them in head-to-head combat, and this reactive, defensive waltz that so far has been all reactive and not all that successful at defensive. Give me a battle-to-the-death any day; at least then there's an enemy I can actually _see_, something I can fight against. Something to keep from feeling so bloody impotent and powerless. _The street, blood, rain, fire_ – I pushed the mental image away.

A muscle at the corner of my jaw jumped as I fired off orders. Anything to keep my head above water, my mind focused. I winced as I uploaded my personal financial statistics. I'd sunk most of my personal fortune into Kaiba Corp in the last six months - my new duel disk technology was nearly completed and I was anxious that it be the finest on the market. What I was left with... Well, it was far more than your average taxpayer kept on hand, but considering what all else I had to pay for, I was barely holding my own. The bodyguards and increased security were siphoning my funds to dangerously low levels. I'd even laid off on the security around my own person so that Mokuba would be fully covered. I mentally cursed Taylor. It would cost me to assign a bodyguard to escort me home from school after this detention, but I didn't dare take the chance of going it alone. They hadn't found the gunman yet, after all. Part of me wondered if it was coincidence or planning that had my head in the cross hairs at the moment that I most needed my head in my work. One more question to ask the shooter once we found him. Questions I very much wanted to put to him _personally_.

A _squelch_ from across the way caught my attention and I looked up. Some kid was murdering the mystery meat, his plastic knife and fork ripping the faux-meat patty into uneven little bits. He stared glumly at the unappetizing pile before reaching for the ketchup bottle. _Squirt_. _Squirt_. _Stir, stir, stir_. It's steaming. He mashes it up, and juices run out, mixing with the bright red...

_Flash_

_The gun, gleaming in the rain, death reduced to a silver-rimmed hole_

_Flash_

_A red puddle, spreading down the sidewalk_

_Flash_

_Wheeler on my lap, my hands sunk into the tattered crater of his belly, blood seeping between my fingers, staining the both of us until no one could tell whose it was_

_Flash_

...I think... I've got to get out of here…

Instinct made me grab for my laptop. Sheer, gut-wrenching _panic _sent me careening out of the lunchroom without it, into the nearest bathroom. Grabbing the garbage can, I sank to my knees right there in the center of the tile, one hand braced against the cool wall, struggling against my heaving stomach. My entire focus narrowed to my body, straining for control against overwhelming biological impetus.

....Ugh.

My stomach heaved twice more, even though the first gush had pretty well cleaned me out. I wiped my mouth on a paper towel, swishing luke warm water around my teeth and tongue to rinse away the foul taste. The images still danced in front of my eyes, daring me to ignore them. "Sorry..." I gasped... to myself, to Wheeler, I'm not sure. "I'm sorry…"

"Oh yeah?" A voice behind me made me jump. "Well, I don't think I'm going to accept that apology."

My muscles were still locked up, so my spin-and-stand was more of a lurch-and-land. I sprawled backwards in front of... Taylor. _Damn_.

He locked the door and took one stride forward, planting his foot on my coat, stopping me from moving. Pulling a baseball bat from behind one of the sinks, he waved it, threatening. "I had been planning to wait until detention to do this, Kaiba," he spat, "but I think I'll take you out right now. This is for Joey, you goddamn bastard."

Normally, I would have fought. Normally, I would have taken Taylor down and stomped on him for good measure… Normally, I wouldn't have images of Wheeler's death floating in front of my retinas.

My dream from last night - and the night before that, and the night before that - rose in my mind.

_You killed me, you sick bastard. I saved your life, and you let me die._

_I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen that way._

_You know you never liked me._

_I never wanted your death._

_Fat lotta good that does me now._

_Joey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. What more can I do to show you how truly sorry I am? _

Looking into Taylor's eyes now, I thought I knew.

I lowered my eyes, shoulders bowing. "For Wheeler, then. Make it good, Taylor."

He loomed over me, baseball bat cocked over his shoulder and my head sitting like a giant t-ball, waiting for him. His shadow blocked out the overhead light and I flinched, waiting for the whistle of the bat as it sailed toward my ear…


	6. In Which: Kaiba Discovers Something

**Warning: **Some strong language, blood, hints of violence. **Kaiba**/Tristan POV.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site, pity the link's not uploading *makes a face*. I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No baseball bats were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Author Request:** Thanks for the review, LexiAtemu!

Please post a review or two! Feed the habit of a review junkie… *begs*

~~~~~ *break* ~~~~~

**Chapter Six: In Which: Kaiba Discovers Something **

_It started that night at the hospital. I'd been cleared – well, I'd declared myself cleared – and I was sitting at Mokuba's bedside. He hadn't woken up yet, still unconscious from the crash. He'd hit his head. The doctors were positive, but scared-positive, like they knew that if they brought bad news, they'd find themselves up against the nearest wall with a lawsuit being shoved down their throats. _

_So with nothing but an 'I'm sure he'll be fine, sir!' to go on, I wasn't going to be leaving my brother's side until he looked up at me with those shining eyes of his and told me he was all right. _

_My eyelids drooped. Surely it would be all right if I closed my eyes for a minute. I could hear the soft beeping of Mokuba's heart monitor, assuring me of that heartbeat…that heartbeat…that heartbeat… _

…_Smoke filling the cabin, its acrid taste making me gag. Mokuba screaming, terrified, as the roar of the flames in the front grew to a fever wail. Slamming against the door, frantic to at least get my little brother out, hammering against it, knowing that it would be too late, too late…! Then Joey Wheeler, wrenching open the door like it was nothing. An angel, sent to wrest me from the jaws of death. _

_And I killed him. I killed him. He didn't have to save me, he hated my guts, so why did he run _into_ danger to save my sorry life? What a stupid dog. How idiotic, how insane… And why can't I say those things and mean them? Wheeler… I'm sorry… _

_Beep…beep…beeeeeeeeeee-_

"Mokuba!"

_My eyes flew open to see my little brother sitting up, pulling the wires and pads from his chest. "Big brother!" He falls into my arms and I hold him tight. I didn't care that he smells of smoke and he didn't mind that I was dressed in nothing but the hospital scrubs I'd had to borrow to replace my blood-stained clothes. My brother is alive. _

_I'd thought I could sleep then. But I couldn't. I haven't been able to sleep since, not without nightmares swarming my head. Joey, his belly blasted open, fiery wings belching smoke at his back, a flaming sword clutched in one hand, that one image always starts the progression. The rest of the nightmares vary – from when my soul was trapped in the darkness of Pegasus' shadow card, from when Yugi blasted my darkest being into splinters, to the more normal horrors of when my parents died, when I was being tortured under my adoptive father and his tutor, the pictures I'd seen in the Kaiba Corp files, back from when it was an arms company, before I'd remade it into a game company – all the memories I have that I wish I did not. But Joey – his death rules over all, my own personal ghost that haunts my every waking and sleeping dream._

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

_Atonement._

I had never understood that word. Not truly. When Yugi ripped out my darker half, the half that didn't care what I did, I'd felt the need for it, to pay back, to make right the wrongs of my past, only I hadn't known how. I'd buried that need beneath my stone façade, convinced myself that the hole in my gut was nothing, a fallacy, something put there by the softer emotions that I tried to rip out and shelve, as weaknesses. But the need to repay was there, gnawing at me, and Joey's ghost was there, condemning me, until it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other, to maintain my image.

And here was Tristan, offering me the means of my atonement for free.

It would hurt. But then, I was hurting now. Maybe the new hurt would wipe out the old.

"For Wheeler, then. Make it good, Taylor."

I shut my eyes. _At least it's not at the hands of that freak,_ I thought. _At least Taylor will rob him of_ that_ victory. Seto Kaiba shall not fall at the hands of an assassin._

What was taking so long? I looked up, and blinked at the confusion on Tristan's face.

"What? Come on, Taylor. Hit me. Take your revenge. I killed Wheeler, remember? Why don't you kill me?" I snarled, daring him, hoping to goad him into giving me my atonement.

Tristan's mouth fell open. "You crazy freak. You _want_ to die?"

"You seem determined to kill me whether I want to or not. Come on, what's the problem?"

"…why?" His eyes narrowed, searching mine. "Why do you want to die, Kaiba?"

What was wrong with him? _I_ would never have hesitated. "What difference does it make? You've got me right where you wanted me, now do it!" _Darn it, I hope that didn't sound as desperate as I think it did._

He cocked the bat again…and set it down, eyes narrowing. "You know, I think Yugi is right," he said, looking me over.

"Right about what?" I growled. I didn't like his implication.

He snorted. "That you're more messed up about this whole thing than you're letting on."

"He's crazy. What would I have to be messed up about?"

Tristan's mouth twitched. "You tell me one thing, Kaiba. You could whip my ass if you wanted to. You did this morning. Why aren't you fighting back now?" He must have seen something in my face, because he nodded. "I don't know what your deal is, man, but whatever. You want a pounding, you're going to have to get someone else to do it. I'm not gonna whip on some guy who's not even gonna defend himself." He stood up from his crouch and went to the door.

"Taylor!" He was leaving. How could he be leaving? "Get back here!"

He paused, not turning. "No, Kaiba. Joey's revenge isn't mine to exact. Come to think of it, I don't think Joey would even want this sort of revenge. He died to save you, man. I can't waste his efforts. Wouldn't be much of a friend if I did."

He pushed open the door, leaving me alone in the middle of the bathroom floor.

I closed my eyes then, and the ghost of Joey floated in front of my eyes, fiery wings and flaming sword at the ready. _No, Taylor,_ I thought to myself. _Of course Wheeler wants revenge. _But the thought lacked conviction.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

I took a few minutes to wash my face, to put my stone expression back on. Weakness was too easily exploited, whether by duelists, business rivals, or high school students. When I was sure I could face the world, I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and stepped out, trench coat flapping around my knees. The crowd parted unconsciously in front of me, allowing me easy passage back to the lunchroom. Image. It's all about image. I might be falling apart inside, but if I looked like the world was mine to destroy, people weren't about to question me.

I got back to my usual table. I knew it was my table, because my half-eaten sandwich was right where I'd dropped it, beside my school books and a few assorted homework papers.

But my laptop was gone.


	7. Which Includes: Talking to the Dead

**Warning: ****Tristan** POV. No real warning here, nothing much in the way of violence happens.

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site, pity the link's not uploading *makes a face*. I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No egos were bruised in the making of this fic.

**Note: **Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom, before Battle City (mostly because I only own Seasons 1 & 5...)

**Author Note:** I'm a review junkie who needs someone to support her habit! Post a few thoughts? Please?

Thanks for the review, Litzana! You've inspired the next twist!

~~~~~ *ygo* ~~~~~

**Chapter Seven: Which Includes: Talking to the Dead **

Mr. Takahashi took pity on us and negated the detention. Good thing; my face felt like some big bravo had used a meat tenderizer on it. And besides, I had a lot of thinking I had to do. Kaiba had really thrown me for a loop. Or I'd thrown myself. Or something.

I wandered downtown Domino pretty aimlessly. I didn't entirely know why I hadn't pounded Kaiba to dust, the way I'd planned. I tried to call back the anger, the rage, that had fueled me, but it wasn't there. I was empty. My fingers brushed across the surface of Joey's Red Eyes card, and I thought of Yugi. Why _had_ Kaiba forfeited their duel yesterday? He never ran away from a duel. He never ran away from anything.

Until now. Why had he just sat there, waiting for me to strike? I'd thought he would fight back. I'd hoped he would beg, plead for his life. I never expected him to have a death wish. I mean, he's _Kaiba_. If anyone is a survivor, it's him. When the end of the world comes, I fully expect there to be no survivors but the cockroaches and Seto Kaiba, perched like a king among the ruins.

But the look on his face…

Is it possible that the great Seto Kaiba is broken? He looked… I don't even know how to describe it. If he were anyone else, I suppose I would call it _fragile_. But stone doesn't break.

My footsteps led me into the cemetery. It's peaceful there, quiet. I leaned up against a tombstone, idly rubbing the edges of the Red Eyes card, staring around me. I was in an older section, where the tombstones had been gradually worn away by the weather and time. Lichen ferned across many of them, nearly obscuring the names and dates. One stone had been the proud bearer of an avenging angel in its heyday; now his wings were blackened with pollution, and his sword arm lay haphazardly on the ground where it had fallen, victim of a recent storm, maybe. I picked it up reverently and lay it at the foot of the headstone he guarded, bowing to show my respect. It didn't do to ignore the spirits of the dead.

Joey's grave wasn't too far away from where I was standing. _Maybe I'll go visit him_, I thought. _Maybe _he_ can help me clear my head. Or at least, make me feel like I'm not talking to myself._

Decision made, I started walking again. I was nearly to the site when I heard another voice, and I slowed. If someone else was there, I didn't want to interrupt. His mother had been there a time or two, talking to the son she'd practically abandoned years before, crying her regrets. His father had been there a couple of times, too, silent, stoic…and sober. _Wherever you are, Joey, I hope you see how much you meant to both of them._ I didn't know who would be there at this time of day, though – work wasn't finished yet. Maybe it was Yugi. But no, the voice sounded wrong…

"…don't know what you were thinking, you mutt. Why save me? Damn it, I'm better than you – in all the ways _but_ the ones that count. Why does your ghost haunt me, Wheeler? What do you gain from it? Or is this just me being egocentric again? 'The whole world revolves around Seto Kaiba,' blah-blah-blah."

I stopped. This was one conversation I didn't want to interrupt, and _definitely_ one I wanted to eavesdrop on.

He continued. "Thing is, Taylor's right. It doesn't come easily, admitting weakness even to myself, but damn it, if I can't talk to a grave, who can I talk to? Dead men tell no tales, and all that. It's not like anyone's going to overhear me out here." I still my shifting feet guiltily.

"You died saving my life, Joey. I can't ever repay you for that. And your buddy was right – I guess I've been looking for death ever since. I'm out here in the open without my security team, for crying out loud, and they haven't even arrested the man who's out to get me yet! Finally got a name for you, though. Thomas James Morrison. An ex-employee of mine, as it happens." He sighed unhappily. "He might be the one screwing with my company, too, though I'm not sure. Kaiba Corp's on the way down the drain, and no matter what steps I take, my enemies are one step ahead of me. I suspect corporate espionage, but this is all on an unprecedented scale."

I was close enough now to see Kaiba as he scrubbed his sleeve wearily across his face. "I'm going to lose my company if I can't stop this," he confessed to the tombstone. "And if that happens, then what? I _am_ Kaiba Corp. If I can't be Seto Kaiba, CEO, what am I? You may have been nothing but a nameless punk, but dammit, you were a _loved_ nameless punk. Huh," he barked a short laugh. "Imagine, me, being jealous of you. Never thought _that _would happen."

He pushed himself to his feet and faced the headstone. "I swear to you, Joey Wheeler, I will find and punish your killer. On my deck, I swear it." He turned suddenly and faced me directly. The naked emotion on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced by the hint of a sneer that was so familiar.

"Taylor. What are you doing here?"

Well, whatdaya say to that? "You got a lead on the gunman, then?" I asked. "I couldn't help overhearing that last bit," I explained, hoping he wouldn't ask me how long 'that last bit' actually _was_. I'd never imagined Kaiba - Seto - was human enough for doubts like that. And with his worries about his company, and his own life… damn, I'd been misjudging him.

I could just _see_ Kaiba gearing up for a scathing retort and my own spine stiffened in anticipation. But his eyes darted to his side, to Joey's headstone, and he unbent. "Yeah," he told me. "He was an ex-employee. I have the best private force in the world searching for him. It shouldn't be much longer before he's safely behind bars and the city can breathe easier."

"You too." He looked at me warily, and I explained. "Can't be pleasant, feeling a target on your back all the time."

He shrugged the self-conscious shrug of someone with an itch between their shoulder blades. "I manage. I've lived through death threats and attempts on my life before. This is nothing new."

"Mm." Neither of us really knew what to say.

"Well, I'd better get going. I've been out of contact with my bodyguards for too long - they must be going frantic."

I spotted a trio of black-suited men off in the distance, hurrying towards us. One guy was lifting his lapel to his mouth as he ran and I grinned. "Like mother hens missing their prize chick," I agreed.

Kaiba looked over his shoulder and gave me an answering grin. "Very like. Say, Taylor…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'll, uh - I'll call you, when my people catch Morrison. The murderer. If you want."

The guards were nearly on us. "Yeah," I said. "I'd like that. Let me give you my number."

That condescending half-smirk was back on his face. "No need. I can find any phone number I want. Even unlisted ones."

His security surrounded him and hustled him off before I could swear at him. That pompous ass! I made a rude gesture at his retreating back, but a smile crossed my face. _Joey, I think he's on our side. Or we're on his. Allies, anyway. You won't go unavenged for long._


	8. Which Gets Messy

**Warning: **Violence, shooting, and general bloodshed - not between K&T for once… Kaiba/**Tristan** POV

**Credits:** This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found here on this site, pity the link's not uploading *makes a face*. I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No jackets were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Note: **Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom, before Battle City (mostly because I only own Seasons 1 & 5...)

**Author Note:** Yay! More reviews! *pours champagne*

Wow, two in one day... I think that's got to be a record for me...

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

**Chapter Eight: Which Gets Messy**

I took it on myself to watch Kaiba's back after that. Not that it needed much watching, really. Say what you like about the guy, he's tough. And that tough-guy image he projects? Nearly flawless. He may be a prick, but at least no one's trying to attack him with anything less than artillery.

Which may be the problem right there, now that I come to think about it…

Anyway, now that _I'm _not the one glaring at the back of his head, it's pretty easy to see that he's not exactly going to be any winning prizes for Mr. Popularity. He's smart, and he _knows_ he's smart, and he makes no bones about letting everyone know it. No one ever told this guy that arrogance wins no friends, or if they did, he doesn't care. Eh, or at least, he pretends he doesn't care. Yugi and Joey and I may be near the bottom of our class, but, well, what was that phrase Kaiba used? _You may have been nothing but a nameless punk, you were a _loved _nameless punk. _

Not that Kaiba makes it easy to like him. That little exchange of ours in the graveyard may have started to change my mind about him, but he's certainly not letting _me _off the hook.

For example…

Some idiot kid in Social Studies took it into his head to make some stupid crack about Kaiba trying to buy his way into the top of the class.

"Shut up, Sam, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah, Tristan? And what do you know about it? You gettin' all chummy with Money Bags all of a sudden? He gonna buy you some brains, or just change your grades too?"

"You don't know the first thing about _anything_, Sammy, so just shut up and let it go."

"Ooh, I'm scared! What're you going to do, stab me with your hair?" He pulled his bangs out, mocking me. "Or are you going to sic your pet Rich Boy on me?"

"Oh, I'm gonna get you for that one-!"

"Taylor!" Kaiba's elbow slammed me back into my seat with a glare and a growl. "Don't be an idiot. Wesson," he turned on Sam, "you wanna see how easy it is to change _your_ grades?" He got that slow grin that duelists everywhere have learned to fear, and Sam quailed.

"S-sorry, Mr. Kaiba," he stammered before slumping back in his seat. Kaiba loomed over him for an extra second, just long enough to emphasize his point, before stalking to his seat. Everyone in the vicinity blew out a covert breath.

God, I wish I knew how he did that.

Of course after class, Kaiba had a few things to say to me.

"Listen Taylor, stay away from me. I don't know why you changed your mind about offing me, but _nothing's changed_. I don't like you; never have, and I doubt I ever will. I can fight my own battles; I don't need you mucking about in them. I duel alone."

And yet…_ Imagine, me, being jealous of you. _

I smiled at him. Not something he was used to when he was bringing all his aura-of-terror to bear. I think it threw him. "Sure thing, Kaiba. But hey, remember - when it counts, you've got friends."

And then, for once, _I _was the one walking away from _him_. I'm gonna remember that moment for the rest of my life. I think Kaiba was speechless.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

Yugi and Tea and I were leaving school together, headed for the Kame Game Shop, when something caught my eye. I paused.

Yugi was the first to notice. "Tristan? What's up?"

Tea followed my gaze. "It's Kaiba. Why is he walking? Doesn't he usually have a limo pick him up?"

Huh. Was Kaiba Corp in that much trouble, that its CEO had to walk home? "It's probably nothing," I told her, feeling like I had to cover for him somehow. "Come on."

That's when I noticed something a little closer to hand. Something that didn't belong.

I shoved my friends to the ground where they stood. "Tea, Yugi! Get under cover, now!"

"Tristan!"

"Tristan! What are you doing?"

"Stay down!" I yelled back, sprinting for the alley. "Kaiba!"

He turned in slow motion, confusion followed by anger flitting across his face. I couldn't spare him a second glance, my attention transfixed by the figure in black crouched by the wall, clutching a long, metallic rod that was aimed directly at Kaiba's head.

"Yaahhhhhh!" I slammed into him just as he was squeezing the trigger.

_Crack!_ The gunshot was deafening at close quarters.

Kaiba jerked forward, but I couldn't look to see if he was alright, seeing as I was a little busy with my own problems.

I drove my fist into the guy's face, knowing that I had only a few seconds of surprise on my side. Second fist to his stomach, knee to his nose as he bent double and then he was on the ground. I kicked his gun away, but his knife caught me by surprise as he surged to his feet.

The blade ripped through my jacket, leaving a bloody gash down my arm. I swung again and he dodged, right into the roundhouse kick I delivered to his midsection.

I followed up and ran right into his knife, slashing a hole in my shirt that left my chest bloodied. Then a booted foot came out of nowhere, striking the attacker's wrist and paralyzing his hand. He dropped the knife, and then a trench coated figure was there, slamming him into the asphalt.

The black-clad man tried to pull a second knife, but I took my turn this time, grinding my shoe down so hard on his fingers I heard bones crack and he cried out in pain. Kaiba drove his elbow into the guy's head so hard he blacked out.

The two of us waited a second to make sure of him, but he was out cold. Our eyes met over our mutual kill. "Thanks for the warning," he grunted, holding out a hand. It was streaked with red, and for the first time I noticed that the side of his face was bloody.

"Wasn't soon enough," I replied, "but you're welcome." We shook hands. My hand was just as bloody as his, I vaguely noticed. Man, that's _just_ what I need, my folks getting on me about fighting again. My eye was going to be black for a week yet, on top of the injuries I'd just acquired.

"You're bleeding," he observed.

"A scratch. You got him before he could get me good."

"A fair trade then. I guess this is when it counts, huh?"

"Huh? Oh…" Hunh. 'When it counts.' Rhymes with 'Friends forever,' right?

I nod over to our attacker-cum-victim. "Is that that guy who was after you? Maris - Morrie - ?"

"Morrison. I'll let the cops do the final verification, but he certainly looks like our man." He was starting to shake a little, a bare tremor that I wouldn't pay any attention to if Kaiba wasn't also starting to look a little sweaty and pale. I'd seen the back of enough street fights to know the early signs of shock.

Fortunately, at that moment, the security hens decided to make their belated appearance on-scene. Kaiba _must've_ been feeling really out of it, because he waved the tardy-and-now-useless armed men over to the unconscious man without so much as a growl of disapproval. I trusted that would come later - in the meantime, I did my level best to mimic a Kaiba-glare to show them that I most certainly did _not_ approve of my having to rescue their charge.

"Come on," I said, leading him out of the alley. "I could use something warm, how about you?" Warmth and liquids, best treatment for shock.

His mouth twitched. "I'm thinking a hospital. You ought to get those wounds seen to."

"Hey, I will if you will." In full sun, out of the dimness of the alley… "You look awful." His hair was a matted, bloody mess on one side of his head, his pristine white collar nothing but a ring of red.

He nodded at me. "You won't be winning any beauty contests yourself."

At that moment, Yugi and Tea came running up. "Tristan! We heard the gunshot, and then we couldn't see you!"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course he's not alright, Yugi, he's bleeding!"

"I'm fine guys," I tried to reassure them, waving my hand dismissively. Unfortunately, it was the one with all the blood running down it, and the Kaiba hand print in the center of the palm. Eesh. _Not exactly the point I wanted to make…_

"Come on," Yugi said, pulling at my uninjured arm. "Let's get you to the hospital."

I shook my head. "Ambulance'll be here soon enough. Cops too, I expect. That was Joey's killer we just took down back there; he was trying to kill Kaiba again. Hey, Kaiba - "

But Money Bags was already gone, drifted off and sucked up into the fervor surrounding the alley mouth. I caught his eye for a moment and he waved a hand, telling me to go.

_Hunh. Friends, huh? Well, maybe he's just out of practice._

"Right guys. Let's go. The cops want my statement, they can get my number from Kaiba."

"He's got your phone number?" Tea asked in surprise.

"He can get anybody's number. Even unlisted ones." I flashed a smile over her head, and I know Kaiba saw it because he smiled back.


	9. In Which Tristan Discovers Something New

_The usual blah-blah-blah up here, man, it gets boring typing all that out every time…_

_No. I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of its characters, the manga, the anime, the card game, nor am I entitled to any royalties, though if the creators want to send a little of the wealth my way, I will be more than happy to take it off their hands. About the only character I can lay claim to is Mrs. Taylor, and that's only because I'm pretty sure she never gets mentioned in any way, shape, or form in the series. Certainly not _this _version of , if I'm wrong... please don't sue me. *begs*Oh yeah, and I ought to mention that I do not own steristrips either, though I've certainly used them often enough.  
_

_**Tristan**__ POV ahead, and we're moving into Weirdsville come next chapter, thanks Ashley for the brain spaz that led to _this _interesting little development. Litzana, I promise, Bakura's going to show up sometime. _

_Much apologies for the long wait! Though I hope the extra length makes up for it, somewhat. My boss has been convinced that since she signs my paychecks, I ought to actually be _working._ Imagine that..._

_Reviews much loved, reviewers even more loved! Help a junkie out, feed my review habit!_

_~ Roya_

_~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~_

**Chapter Nine: In Which: Tristan Discovers Something New**

The emergency room stitched me up quick and pushed me out to mosey off on my way in record time, white paper bag with my antibiotics and pain pills tucked firmly under Tea's arm and Yugi making sure that I didn't pull my own arm out of the sling. I complained for form's sake, but really, it felt great, knowing that those two had my back even on the little things.

They dropped me off at home, where my mom had the expected reaction.

"You've been fighting again, haven't you?" She met me at the door, a scowl on her face and a wooden spoon dangling from her fingers. Eep. Dinner. I'd forgotten.

"Um, well…"

She threw up her hands. "Good Lord, Tristan! I didn't raise you to be some street thug! Can't you let just one day go by without beating on some poor fellow?"

_It's only been twice in two days, Ma_. But I know better than to interrupt my mother in mid-rant.

"It wasn't that Seto Kaiba again, was it? I swear, you have no sense. What if he decides to sue us, eh? I know you two've got your history, but for goodness' sake, use your head! The good Lord gave it to you for a reason, you know."

Explain now, or later?

Mom glared.

Later. Definitely later.

I started to edge towards my room. "You're right, Ma. I won't get in any more fights with Kaiba, I promise." Okay, so I was probably lying to her, but it's what she needed to hear, right?

Wrong.

She _thwapped_ me over the head with the spoon.

"Don't lie to your mother, it's a sin. And don't give me that face, either!" She sighed and put the spoon down. "Okay, show me."

Oi. The part I'd been hoping to avoid. "Ma, I'll be okay. Just a coupla scratches, that's it."

She wasn't to be deterred. "If I'm paying the medical bill, I want to see the merchandise. Shirt off."

"Ma…!"

Okay, did I say that Kaiba's glares weirded me out? I take that back; he has _nothing_ on my mother in a temper. Needless to say, the shirt came off. Eventually.

And that's when Mom's ire reached a _whole_ new level.

"_YOU CALL THAT A COUPLE OF SCRATCHES?"_ And now the whole building knows, thanks Ma.

I looked down at myself. The foreshortened view _had _to be what made the little railroad track across my chest look longer than it was. My arm – well, the knife had missed tendons and arteries and really, it wasn't _that _bad.

"It looks worse than it is. Long but shallow, a clean cut, that's what the ER guys said, nothing to worry about. The guy barely nicked me." I tried to shrug my shirt back on, but she stopped me.

"A knife fight. You got into a knife fight? And how many stitches is that?"

"They use SteriStrips now, Ma. And it's only a couple." Dozen, I amended in my mind.

She slumped against the wall, clutching at her chest. I'd be worried, but she does that every time she wants to get her point across. "You're killing me, son. My own boy is killing me!"

"Sorry, Ma." I said it with perfectly genuine contriteness.

With a sigh, she stood. "Tristan, all kidding aside, why can't you just be… normal! Easy-going! Your cousin never gets into these kinds of fights. _His_ mother never has to worry if he's going to get himself beaten to a pulp at school!"

_And_ she's playing the cousin card. She must really be mad.

There was a knock at the door. _Hoo boy. Bet it's the landlord. Why can't my mother ever be mad in a _quiet_ voice? _

She opened the door as I was grabbing for my shirt.

"Yes?" She inquired of the person on the other side.

"Mrs. Taylor? Is your son at home?"

I knew that voice.

"Kaiba?"

He looked over my mother's shoulder. "Taylor."

"What're you doing here?"

He smirked. "If a phone number is no trouble to get, you think I couldn't find your address?" He nodded at the mended slash across my chest. "Impressive."

"So's yours." He had a white swathe tied around his head and a thick bandage padded over one ear. I was surprised he'd let himself be seen in public looking like that.

"I just came to let you know that it _was_ Morrison. The police just confirmed it."

I blew out a breath. "So it's over then."

"Mm." Kaiba's mouth twitched. "So far as I know, anyway. I don't think I'll be doing without my security people just yet."

Yup, sure enough, I spotted a goon hovering out in the hallway. "Not that they did you much good today."

"Heh." He barked a short laugh. "You wanna be put on retainer? Seems I'm better off trusting my life to you."

And that was when my mother broke in. I'm surprised she lasted that long. She must've been floored by having a billionaire walk into her front room.

"Tristan? Is this… It's not really… Who…?"

Manners. Right. I grinned. "Ma, this is Mr. Seto Kaiba. Kaiba, this is my mother."

He took her hand, genially. Right. He moved in rarified circles; he had to have learned politeness at _some_ point. "Mrs. Taylor. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Your son saved my life today, as I'm sure he mentioned." The look that crossed her face as her gaze crossed mine was priceless. Kaiba read it perfectly. "Or perhaps not. Nevertheless, I wish to borrow him from you for the evening."

Kaiba, what are you up to? He cocked an eyebrow at me and I weighed my options. A night at home with my mother, answering all sorts of questions… or a night out with a guy who, up until a couple days ago, had been among the people I most despised and who up until _today_ hadn't had the time of day for me. Who had been, in fact, a real jerk. Who was now in my living room, practically singing my praises. _This I gotta see._

I let him make-nice to my mother while I changed my shirt – bloody slashes a good impression do not make. By the time I emerged from my room, she was smiling – smiling! – at Kaiba! The guy must have some sort of previously unrevealed charming streak, that's all I can say.

"Ready? Then let's go." Ma waved us out the door, and it wasn't until we were down the stairs and out the door that I realized that I had no _clue_ where we were headed.

"My place," Kaiba answered my question. "I figured the both of us could use some down time, in a place where my security goons," he jerked his thumb at the front compartment of the limo, "won't go crazy."

I opened my mouth, closed it again, and then shrugged. Whatever. Kaiba would tell me what he had in mind later, I was sure.

He was pensive during the drive, and I wasn't much inclined to break the silence, either. Not speaking turned out to be a very good idea. If I'd been talking when we pulled into the drive of the biggest freaking mansion I'd ever seen, I probably would've been sputtering.

Something must've shown on my expression, though, because Kaiba got that smirk on his face. "Home Sweet Home," he announced, ushering me through the front door.

It was…big. Very big. Very, _very_ big. Very, very, ve-

"Come on," he growled, and I realized I'd been goggling.

I cranked my jaw up off the floor and followed him into a sitting room that, had I been with anyone but Kaiba, I might have called 'cozy.' With him there, I just termed it 'small.' Well, in comparison to the rest of the place, that is; half of my apartment could have fit in there.

He flopped down on a big overstuffed leather chair. Ever seen Kaiba flop? I didn't think it was possible. The guy's got so much tense energy to him, I would've thought he'd break for sure if he'd tried anything so ungainly as a flop. Nevertheless, he flopped. He looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen him, one leg dangling over one armrest, leaning back against the other, eyes closed as he tipped his head back with a sigh.

"Help yourself to whatever," he said, waving his hand at a fully stocked sideboard. Soda, fruit juices, mini cheese wheels, crackers, all sorts of expensive-looking bottles with liquor labels...

"I'm pretty sure you're as under-aged as I am," I mentioned, sorting through the mess for the ice tongs and a glass.

He grimaced. "Yeah, but I'm also pretty sure that we both need the anesthesia. I've needed a drink for the last two weeks; I don't intend to stay dry much longer. How about it, Taylor? Join me in a toast?"

Well... I wasn't exactly a stranger to alcohol. And those bottles were looking awfully good, and after getting shot at, knifed, and running _toward_ a man with a gun...

"What's your poison of choice?" I asked, my fingers brushing across a bottle of sake that I knew cost more than my mother's car did.

He joined me at my elbow. "That one," he said, lifting the bottle I'd just passed over. "What?" he answered my incredulous look. "I brought it up just for tonight. We can move on to the cheaper stuff later."

He poured out two generous measures and handed me one. "To Joey Wheeler," he said, raising his glass solemnly.

"To Joey," I responded, and we both drank. It burned, going down.

It felt good.

We drank in silence for a while. I don't know what Kaiba was thinking. Me, my thoughts were all preoccupied. Joey. Our friendship. We'd first met back in middle school. I'd looked up to him. He'd been a gang member back then, a brawler and a fighter. Pale shades of the high school gangs, but, well, when you're twelve, anyone who can throw a punch and mean it is cool. He'd taught me how to handle myself in a fight, and I'd learned well - surpassed him, actually, once I got my growth spurt. High school had been good for both of us. Got him out of the gangs and kept me from getting into one, though we'd both been bullies until Yugi worked his influence. Friendship. It's a miracle.

My gaze slid sideways over to Kaiba. He looked smaller, without his trench coat, without his attitude buoying him up. But, somehow, not weak either. If he can break that little bullying streak of his, he'll be a great man someday. Hell, I'm living proof that it's possible to go from mean to decent - well, fairly decent, anyway. And, well… I guess he's not so bad, under his gruff façade. Maybe he just never learned how to open up. Not so different from me, really.

We were just getting nicely anesthetized when the door swung open on its own. Kaiba sat up fast. "What the hell…?"

Not an expected visitor, then.

A figure stepped into the room. His skin was dark-toned, like someone from the Middle East, or Egypt, or Turkey, someplace like that. Not that we could see much of his skin, covered as he was by flowing white robes and a turban that swathed his head. A heavy gold earring adorned one ear and he wore an unusually shaped necklace around his neck - a pendant shaped like an ankh, you know, one of those weird symbols that people paint on stuff to show it's Ancient Egyptian, no lie, two-dolla-ext'a-mistah. His face was a little familiar, though for the life of me, I didn't know where I'd seen him before.

"What are you doing in my house?" Kaiba demanded, rising defensively. "I want you to leave, right now!"

But the man - boy? It was hard to tell, he looked both old and young at the same time - merely cocked his head, as though listening to some voice that only he could hear.

I was standing by now too, getting around the furniture and closer to Kaiba. If the weird dude was going to jump us, he'd have to deal with us both.

"You call to my Millennium Key," the stranger announced. "You will be tested to determine your worthiness." And with that, he raised his pendant.

Okay. So I've been around Yugi and his Millennium Puzzle, and Bakura and his Millennium Ring, and Pegasus and his Millennium Eye. Kaiba was looking at the guy like he'd slipped a few gears, but _I_ know bad news when it comes knocking. "Kaiba! Look out!" I grabbed his arm just as the Key tapped his forehead.

And suddenly, the world went black.


	10. Kaiba's Mind is a Little Bit Freaky

_I own many things. Sadly, YugiOh is not among them – unless you count my own personal copies of the manga, the anime, the trading cards… No rights to any of 'em, though, mores the pity._

_**Kaiba**__ POV ahead! Along with much weirdness. Yup, Skale, iiiiiit's Shadi! _

_Oh yeah, suppose it helps if I tell y'all that this is supposed to take place between the events of season one (Duelist Kingdom, etc.) and Battle City, with occasional inspiration from the manga. Don't hate me for my artistic license. _

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

**Chapter 10: In Which: We Find Out That Kaiba's Mind is a Little Freaky…**

I fought my way up out of a black vortex and landed on my feet. At least, there was a solid surface under me, so I assume I was on my feet – I could see literally nothing. I blinked, trying to clear my eyes, but the only light I could see was the flashes created by my own rapidly flickering eyelids.

Calm. Calm. I forced my breathing to slow, exhaling a final sigh as I closed my eyes – more for my own personal state of mind than to cut out the light, as there was none. The change focused me, and for the first time, I could begin to make out sounds.

The faint _whirr_ and _crackle_ of technology at work sounded from all around. I took a few steps forward, hands outstretched, and encountered the smooth, cold feel of stainless steel. The utter blackness all around me was unnerving. Needing to feel _something_, I pressed my entire self against the wall, leaning my cheek against it. The _thrum_ of living technology reverberated through my body, soothing me, calming my fears. I don't like the dark.

The murmur of a voice caught my attention now, and I turned to see a scrap of cold light, like a bright lamp whose rays don't quite reach around a corner. Anything is better than this, I decided, and pushed away from the wall, making my way toward the light and the voice.

"…darkness everywhere in this labyrinth of a mind. A symbol of a dark past, a soul in hiding. Modernized, and in a constant state of rebuilding – this soul is displeased with the way things are, and seeks always to change them. And plain. He has either very little personality, or else he is very arrogant, with little care for the comforts of material or personal connections." It was the voice of the stranger, the one who had forced his way into my house. What was he muttering about? Me?

Anger replaced my curiosity, and I took a deliberate step forward, ready to tell him off.

A hand snagged my elbow and jerked me back into the shadows. "Tay-!"

His hand clapped over my mouth. "Sh," he cautioned in a low voice. "That guy's got a Millennium Item. We'd better not call attention to ourselves until we know more."

"What the hell's a Millennium Item?" I kept my voice low. Tristan was right about one thing, at least. It would be idiotic to lose the advantage of surprise.

"You remember that Eye that Pegasus trapped you with a few months back?" I scowled. I didn't like being reminded. "_That_ was a Millennium Item. They're bad news, mostly."

I snuck a glance around the corner at where Egyptian-boy was examining something stuck in the ceiling – a periscope? Odd. "A device for looking forward and back, but it is locked in the forward position. Is he fearful of looking back, perhaps? Also indicative of one who desires to overlook everything, a symbol of power, like the crown."

Crown? Sure enough, I spotted an alcove with a throne in it, an elaborate, titanium-silver crown resting on the plush seat. Taking the chance, I slipped into the niche, picking up the piece reverently. It was light in my hands, but solid, imbued with power. He who wore this would most definitely be the king of all he surveyed.

I turned to look at the view from the throne, and my eye was grabbed by the immense holographic 3D portraiture on the wall. I bit back a gasp.

Gozaburo! My adoptive father sneered down at me; condescending, condemning, his gaze full of damnation. Beneath those eyes, I shrunk back to a boy of ten. "'To lose is to die, Seto,'" his voice bit at me, harsh. "And you are a loser."

I turned away, only to find a portrait of Yugi on the other side of the niche, arms crossed, that half-smile on his face that he gets when a duelist has fallen into some clever trap and his victory is assured. "I've won, Kaiba," he rumbled. "You've lost again."

A hologram of the Joey from my nightmares shimmered into being, flaming sword bared as he challenged me. "Guilty conscience, Kaiba?" he mocked.

A nightmare… This has to be a nightmare! Trapped between their eyes, my heart quailed. The crown fell from nerveless fingers, only to be snatched from midair by Taylor.

"Quiet down," he hissed. "Do you want to get us caught by that freak?"

I'd never dreamed about _Tristan_ before. Yugi, yes. Gozaburo, most definitely. Joey; I hadn't been able to sleep for my dreams about Joey. Taylor…not so much. Why now? And why this?

My gaze swept across to where the Egyptian was examining a small shrine. My heart just about stopped, because I knew what was in that shrine. Sight unseen, I knew.

"A picture of a family, old, worn. A father, a mother, a young boy and a baby. Another picture – half a picture – of a black-haired boy playing chess. Hm. And a brunette, a fairly new snapshot. They are small; ignored? No. Protected. This is this soul's heart-of-hearts," he murmured, "the secret he guards with all his might."

_Fury. Rage._

Blazing with passionate anger, I shook Taylor off. "Hands off that!" I bellowed, striding forward. "You put my family down!"

The Egyptian turned to me, amazement writ on his face. "How are you here?" he asked. "No one has ever followed me into his Soul Room before who was not already there!" His eyes darted over my shoulder. "And a guest? What magic is this?"

Taylor's hand rested on my shoulder. "Not good, man, not good," he murmured to me but I was shaking too hard to pay attention.

"I don't know where this is or who you are," I growled, "But I want you gone! This is _my_ private place, and I won't have you ogling my secrets." It wasn't until I said it that I realized that what I had said was true; this was mine, and no one else was welcome here.

Undaunted, the Egyptian advanced on me. "Seto Kaiba, I have read your soul. I do not know why you are here, but I have determined that you are not worthy of the task at hand. Never mind – I shall wipe your memories and it shall be as if I were not even here."

"Like hell!"

"Kaiba, run!" Tristan grabbed me and pulled, leading me back into the black labyrinth I'd first found myself in.

"I don't run from a fight," I growled at him, even as my feet pounded the metal plates of the floor. Fleeing like a dog.

"The first time he hit you with that thing, we wound up here. You wanna see where you wind up if he hits you again?"

His logic…made irrefutable sense. Damn it. "You see a door or something?"

"This is _your_ Soul Room, you ought to know!"

"What the hell is a Soul Room?"

Tristan shrugged, an impressive feat while running. Which made me pause – it was still light, where we were, though we'd left the central room behind long ago. I looked at the source. My deck.

I whipped out my Ancient Portal card and flung it ahead of us – don't ask me why, it just felt like the thing to do.

The card stuck to the wall, unfolding and blossoming like a flower into an ancient, carved stone door. We slammed into it together and smashed it open. The single wrought-gold handle came off in my fist and then we were through, into what looked, at first glance, like a huge and magnificent tomb. Stone carvings marched up and down the walls, around gigantic pillars and across the roof. Torch light flickered from innumerable wrought iron sconces and candelabra, shadows crawling across the ceiling in ways that I wasn't fully convinced were caused solely by the wavering flames. One thing I didn't see, however, was another door out.

"It's a dead end!" Tristan exclaimed.

We turned to face the door we'd entered by. The Egyptian crossed the threshold and the portal immediately evaporated behind him.

We were trapped.


	11. In Which: A Soul is Tried and Tested

_I own a lot. I own a car. I own a computer. I own more bookshelves than one person ought by rights to own, and more books than can fit on them. I own, insofar as one can _say_ they own, my mind, brain, creativity, talent, etc… but I do not own YugiOh, the anime, manga, or characters. More's the pity; I could use the royalties… most likely to purchase more books. :)_

_Thanks, Litzana, for proofing this! _

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

**Chapter 11: In Which: A Soul is Tried and Tested**

Trapped! Damn!

Kaiba and I faced down the Egyptian freak, waiting for him to move first. I gotta tell you, it felt good having Rich Boy at my side. Between the two of us, we could handle anything.

The staring match dragged on, with the Egyptian dude just standing there, watching us. Kaiba muttered aside to me, "Okay, spill. Soul Room?"

I muttered back, not taking my eyes from the guy in front of me. "Somethin' Yugi said once. Everyone's got a Soul Room that's a reflection of their personality, their soul. This guy - Yugi told me his name, dammit! - can get inside their Rooms and mess with it, change them." I was racking my brains. If I could just remember the guy's name…!

Kaiba's face went stony. "So let me get this straight. This guy broke into my soul and tried to change me to suit him?" Something was going on behind those blue eyes, I knew it. His Duel face was on, and I could practically see a strategy forming. He still had the severed door handle in his hand; he thumped the gold shaft against his leg meditatively.

"You!" he called to the intruder. "Leave my Soul Room now, and I will let you live. I can kill you easily, you know." A grin twisted his lips. "My deck is real here, and you won't survive the monsters I can throw at you."

Hey! That's right - Yugi had said that his other half had been able to manipulate his room. That must've been how Kaiba could open that door with his card. I grinned. We were gonna get out of here alive after all.

But the stranger's face… failed to fall. He vented a soft grunt that might have been a truncated laugh. "That is true… in _your _Soul Room."

"Kaiba…?" I spoke aside to him. "What's he talking about?"

"Look around you," the stranger invited. "Does this look like your technocratic temple?"

Come to think of it… "But where else could we be?"

He ignored me, favoring Kaiba with his stare. "You have opened a portal into _my _Soul Room, Seto Kaiba. I do not know how this happened. Nevertheless, you are trespassers into my soul. You must be destroyed. And, as you so candidly pointed out, the master of a Room has great power while within it. Ammit! Attack!"

The shadows surged out of the wall. "Kaiba! Look out!" I shoved him to the ground, the breeze of the monster's lunge ruffling my hair as it passed overhead. Kaiba reached for his pocket.

"It's gone! What have you done with my deck, you bastard?"

The Egyptian gave a small smile. "My Soul Room has been passed down by reincarnation since the time of the ancient Pharaohs. If you want to wield the old powers, you must do so as my ancestors did. If you can. Pit! Open!"

"Yaaahhh!" I screamed like a little girl.

"Taylor!" Kaiba grabbed me and pulled me up. We stood on a square stone that was _floating_, no lie, in the middle of a giant pit that was still crumbling on the edges. The Egyptian stood on the far side, watching us.

"You merely put off the inevitable," he said, annoyed. Wait, so it wasn't him making us float? How the heck…? I blinked the thought away. Solve mystery later, survive now. "You are, how you call, sitting ducks. Ammit! Hunting spear!"

A horrible monster with massive, goggling eyes appeared at his shoulder, a slender spear clutched in its massive paws. It drew back, sighted, and threw with deadly accuracy. Straight at Kaiba.

No time to think. I jammed my body in front of Kaiba. "Ungh!" I grunted as the spear hit my back. Fortunately, it hadn't been thrown hard enough to penetrate. Far.

"You idiot," Kaiba muttered in my ear, holding me up. "You shouldn't have protected me!"

"I got no ideas," I muttered back, knees shaking. "You're the brains of this outfit; I'll protect you long enough for you to think us a way out of here."

Kaiba looked down. "I think I have an idea, at that. Trust me?"

I gave him a _Look_. I had a spear in my back. I wanted to collapse, only there wasn't enough space to do it on this floating rock. I could _feel_ the blood welling out of the wound. "I got a choice?"

He looked grim. "No. Not really. But this will be easier without questions or screaming."

A look passed between us. Aw, what the hell. "Yeah. I trust you."

"Good. Because we're going to jump."

"Jump-?" He grabbed my arm and dragged me off the rock.

_Yaaaaaahhhhhh!_ I kept my scream internal. Mostly.

The gold rod that Kaiba had wrenched off of the door was now jammed into a crack in the rock. We were currently suspended from said rod.

_What the hell was he thinking? _That old adage about frying pans and fire crossed my mind. Funny what you think of when your feet are dangling over a bottomless pit, held by one arm which is, in turn, being held by a guy whose feet are _also_ dangling over a bottomless pit, with nothing between you and a deadly drop but one single human hand on a slim metal rod. With a spear in your back. I said a prayer to whatever god might be listening that his grip wouldn't slip.

"I call forth the Blue Eyes White Dragon!"

Kaiba'd found his deck? I looked up, but unless he had a third arm concealed somewhere, he didn't have a hand free to draw a card.

But it didn't appear he needed one. The dragon surged into being, drawn from… from the stone we'd been standing on? A blue-white glow surrounded us as the monster took form, Kaiba laughing madly. The Egyptian dude was shouting something in some language I'd never heard before, but I knew it was swearing. There's something very distinctive about swearing, no matter what language it's in.

"Blue Eyes! Attack with white lightning!" The dragon drew back, sending a blast of pure energy straight at the Egyptian.

But just before it hit, the world shredded, whisping into fog that solidified into blackness.

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~~

I blinked. I was in Kaiba's front room. No pit, no monster, no dragon.

My back… I touched the spot where the spear had hit, and looked at my hand. Nothing. No blood. No wound.

But there was a hole in my shirt that hadn't been there before.

I looked to my right. Kaiba.

And straight ahead. "Shadi," I growled, the name finally deciding to surface.

And for the first time, he finally focused on me. "How do you know my name?"

"Yugi…" wait, it had been the other one, hadn't it? "Yami told me."

His brow creased. "You are a friend of the Chosen One?"

But Kaiba chose this moment to break in. "Get out of my house, you freak."

But Shadi held his ground. "How did you do that?" he demanded. "No one has ever been able to enter _my _Soul Room before, much less to call forth a monster there. Much less _that_ monster." His abstracted study of Kaiba took on a new edge. "You are a mystery, Seto Kaiba. I begin to understand."

"I don't care, just get out of my house!" Single-minded, isn't he? Well, I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't want two strangers mucking about in my Soul Room secrets either.

"Kaiba." I put my hand on his shoulder, stilling him. "Trust me?" I asked him. Reminding him with my eyes that he owed me, for that little jump into the pit.

He glared, grunted, and I decided to take that as a yes. "Shadi," I addressed the Egyptian. "You owe us an explanation. What are you doing here?"

"I owe you nothing," he maintained stolidly. "But… This may go faster with your cooperation."

"I won't be cooperating with you on _anything_," Kaiba sneered.

Oh boy. I get to play peacekeeper again. "Kaiba. Sit." I pushed him down onto the couch. "Shadi. Sit. Over there, hands where we can see them. And if you even _think_ of touching that Millennium Item, you're dead." I picked a spot leaning up against the wall. I wanted the leverage. Just in case.

"Now," I stated. "Shadi. Talk."

The Egyptian mystic took a deep breath. "Very well. It started three weeks ago…"


	12. In Which: Kaiba gets Leveled With

_I am owning of nothing, especially not Yu-Gi-Oh nor the universe created for it…_

_**Kaiba**__ POV. I'm drawing on the Shadi storyarc from the original manga for inspiration on this one, hence Shadi is in legitimate possession of the Scales. Everyone's favorite Egyptian is a little chattier in this chapter than usual, but I don't think everyone's favorite villain would have let him get away with his usual taciturnity. _

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

**Chapter 12: In Which: The Freaky Egyptian Levels with Us…Mostly. Maybe. We Think.**

The Egyptian… what had Tristan called him? Shadi? sat on the far side of the room, staring at us. Well, at me, mostly, though he occasionally spared a glance for the muscle. What can I say? Tristan may be skinny, but he's got a talent for hulking. Wish I could do that. He had Shadi nervous by just standing there. I know _I_ felt protected. Of course, he'd just saved my life for the second time in less than twelve hours. Maybe I _should_ put him on retainer.

"Now," Tristan said. "Shadi. Talk."

The white-robed man shot him a glare. "Very well. It started three weeks ago.

"The business of my order is sacred, and I will not speak of it. Nevertheless, know that I use many mystic items in the pursuit of my goals. Among them is the Millennium Key, with which you are now familiar." He gestured towards his chest, where the Ankh hung. Tristan leaned forward menacingly, and Shadi held out his hands, placating.

"One item with which you are _not_ familiar, but your Chosen One is, is the Millennium Scales. This." He looked for permission to Tristan, then reached slowly into his robes and withdrew a pair of scales, golden, and with elaborate designs etched into it. The eye-of-Horus-type thing glinted from the central balance. I suppressed a shudder. It looked like Pegasus' Eye. And like the decoration on Yugi's pendant, now that I thought about it… Yugi? Really? I filed the thought away for later study.

"Three weeks ago, the Millennium Scales tipped."

"Aren't they supposed to do that?" I asked, smarminess masking my uncertainty.

The mystic glared at me. "Not without a weight, no. Look at them now." He placed the item on the table before him with a slight, open handed flourish. The dishes were clearly empty, but the arms were tipped significantly. "The angle gets worse as each day passes," Shadi intoned. "Something has occurred which should not have come to pass. I have followed the pull of my Millennium Items here, to you, Seto Kaiba. You are the one who has done this thing. And you are the only one who can undo it."

I put all the derision I could into my snort. "Oh? And why should I want to help you?" When you want information, you don't go asking for it. You challenge them to give it to you.

He frowned. "Because destiny is out of balance. The world hangs by a thread." He twanged one of the slim metal wires holding the leftmost dish. "If things are not placed back on their right path, then all the world will be in jeopardy."

"And? What's in it for me?"

"Kaiba!" Tristan protested. Right, he was a Yugi-crony. Altruistic as hell, the whole lot of 'em. Explains why they keep saving me, anyway. The thought made me inexplicably irritated.

"All I'm hearing right now is a lot of nonsense. And this guy _still_ hasn't said why he chose me. Likely he's just a fraud who saw how he could make a quick buck." I knew the type well. Scare 'em, then pass the collection plate. Crazy whackos, the lot of them. The only way to deal with his type was to be firm, open the door, and if they don't leave on their own, give 'em a taste of the boot.

Shadi glared. "Do you need me to take another trip inside your head, Seto Kaiba?" he threatened. "Perhaps then you will see the truth."

Tristan lurched forward and I, much to my chagrin, shrank back. A little. That wacky dream… hadn't been explained yet. For one thing, I still had that weird rod in my hand. I'd had crazy dreams before, but never one where I came back with _souvenirs_.

"Alright," I admitted, grudgingly. "The smoke and mirrors were impressive. So I'll let you make your pitch. Explain."

Tristan rolled his eyes, exasperation writ clearly on his face. Shadi was more composed.

"The Millennium Scales weigh many things. Primarily, they judge a soul's heart and actions, but there are other, more arcane uses. One of which is to keep the measure of the balance of reality. Three weeks ago, you did something that disrupted the stability of fate. Something that you have not yet corrected. Without this correction, destiny will continue its inexorable slide." He indicated the Scales in front of him. "If the dish drops so low as to touch the ground, it will spark cataclysmic events, such as the world has not witnessed since the sealing of the Dark Powers five millennia ago. The world today has no magic with which to stop such an apocalypse." His eyes were intense, boring into mine. "No living person would survive. And you, Seto Kaiba, and the people you are close to, would be the first to perish."

He still hadn't answered my question. "Why me?"

"What happened three weeks ago?" he demanded. "What event caused the balance of reality to shift like this?"

Tristan had paled. "Joey," he muttered, then repeated himself, louder. "Joey died."

Shadi glared at me. "Who is this Joey?"

I shrugged carelessly, all of my defenses shooting up instantly. "A kid who saved my life." Tristan glared, and I relented, a little. "He's a duelist. He pulled me out of my limo when it was on fire, then took the bullet that was meant for me. He died because of it."

"When?"

I knew what he was after. "You think it was Joey's death that set your little toy off?"

Shadi menaced me with his Key, and I knew better than to mock him again. I decided that I would accept his account of things, for the moment and provisionally, and take him at his word. At least until he got the freak-stick away from me. I tapped the rod by my side, oddly comforted by its presence.

"It is the explanation that makes the most sense. Only something so drastic as an untimely death could set the Scales tipping so severely." His eyes riveted on the rod in my hand. "And only in the presence of an Ancient One could such a death occur."

"Huh?" Okay, _that_ threw me for a loop. Ancient One? I wasn't even out of high school yet.

Shadi closed his eyes meditatively. "You will have to take it on trust; my bloodline has not had access to the historical tablets for several millennia. But you are the reincarnation of an Ancient Priest who had charge of one of the original Millennium Items. The Millennium Rod, in point of fact."

"Right. And my mother was the Queen of Sheba."

"Your aunt, actually," he replied, straight faced. "Several facts point to this. You were able to enter your Soul Room – and bring your friend along – at the time that I was exploring it. Only the Chosen One has ever been able to do this, and his spirit is as ancient as yours. Point two. You were able to work magic, to use your cards to open a door into _my_ Soul Room. Point three. You forged yourself a Millennium Rod, straight from the buried memories of your own soul." He held up a hand to forestall my argument. "Examine the rod you still carry and tell me it is not so."

For the first time, I held up the rod that had saved my life and looked at it, _really_ looked at it. About eighteen inches long, gold – though I would bet there was some stronger alloy in it, since it had held the weight of two grown men without bending. And topped with a really gaudy pair of wings and that familiar, creepy-looking eye. I recoiled.

Shadi nodded. "It is not the _actual_ Rod, of course, but a likely facsimile all the same. And enough to point to your birthright. With leads to point four. The entire floor in that chamber ought to have crumbled. _One_ tablet, bearing _one_ monster, remained solid. And from that one tablet, you were able to call forth – in the ancient manner, no less – the creature associated with that same ancient priest. The Blue Eyes White Dragon."

"Blue Eyes has always been my favorite monster," I defended, grumpily.

"Another clue pointing to your past."

It had been a dream. It had to have been a dream. Because if it hadn't been a dream… But how the _hell_ did this freak know those sorts of details? Unless he really _was _there…

Too much to process right now. Facts.

"So you're saying that Joey's death is going to destroy the universe. And that that 'error' has to be corrected. By me." Scorn loaded my voice. "Do I_ look_ like Jesus Christ to you? Resurrection of the dead is a little beyond me." _I'd have brought him back three weeks ago if I could._

Shadi shook his head. "You will be required, yes. But the spell will be a complex one. The magic of this time is diluted. Great power will have to be concentrated to perform the ritual."

"From where?" I demanded. Shadi glared.

"That is my concern. In the meantime, I suggest you make yourself useful."

I saw Tristan wince. My hackles rose instantly. "_Useful?_"

Shadi was standing by now, paused in the doorway. "I have been seeking you for three weeks, Seto Kaiba. I followed the pull of my Millennium Items here to Domino City, but once here, I found that my ability to sense you was being interfered with. I sought the source of that interference, another who bears an Item."

Tristan nodded. "Yugi."

The Egyptian didn't spare him a glance. "Not the Chosen One, no. A white-haired boy."

"Bakura?" Tristan's voice had an edge to it. Not used to being ignored? Not that he got much attention anyway, with Yugi and Joey always in the spotlight. You'd think he'd be used to it by now.

"That is his name, I believe, yes. Ryu Bakura. He was a singularly pleasant young man. He used his Ring to point me in the correct direction."

"And you're telling me this why?" I glowered.

Shadi spoke to me over his shoulder. "Because while I was in his apartment, I saw a laptop computer on the desk. One with the initials 'SK' above a stylized 'KC.' He did not seem to know how it came to be there."

If he said anything else, I'm afraid I missed it. I was too busy charging headfirst towards the garage.


	13. In Which: Shadi Pays a Visit

_Oh, my stars! After two months of wrestling with personal demons (named work, day shifts, family, and procrastination, among others) my muse is back on line! Woohoo! Many, many, _many_ apologies to those who waited so long for an update - I'm so, so sorry! Hopefully this chapter will sate a few appetites until I can get the next chappie written._

_Decided to go with a different angle on this one, since my muse was balking horribly at what I _wanted_ to do. Maybe this'll kick start something. Anyhow, enjoy a Shadi-centric narration - first time trying this, what do y'all think? Reviews much loved! (Thanks especially to tailsiskool67 - this long-awaited chapter is dedicated to you!)_

_And, oh yeah, I don't own YugiOh. Someone want to clue me in on how to _get_ ownership rights? Cuz I'd love to know…_

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

The Egyptian blended with the shadows as he made his way to the island.

This mode of travel was no mere parlour trick, but an ancient technique passed down through the generations of his bloodline, one of many developed for the safeguarding and gentle husbandry of the Millennium Items and their bearers. It was solemn, almost sacred, this act of proceeding through the dim edges of dream and memory.

Shadi loved every minute of it.

His father had been quite put-out with him when Shadi had told him how much he enjoyed Shadow Walking. 'This is a serious business, what we do,' he'd been told. 'We are _Guardians_. We _guard_. We do not _play_. If you are not careful, you will grow up...' here he shuddered, '_funny. _You must cultivate a serious demeanor, my son. You are far too jocular as it is.'

Shadi winced, remembering those words, and slowed his already-even tread. His ears heated, remembering his encounter with Kaiba. He'd gotten positively _friendly_ with him, actually _teasing_ him with information about that laptop! His father wouldn't have messed about, bandying words. The old man would have told Seto Kaiba, straight up, to go and fetch Ryu Bakura. Ai.

But the old man wasn't here. He was too old to go Shadow Walking. And Shadi... If Shadi loved traveling, then his father would never need to know.

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

He paused a moment on the edge of waking dreams. The man he sought was still awake, though judging by the clock on the mantle, it was so late as to be early. The white-haired man bent over his desk, pencil clutched in his hand. Shadi came closer, circling for a better view.

It was a sketch of a young woman, with long tresses and smiling eyes. As Shadi watched, the pencil gently caressed her face and her mouth formed. But the disapproving frown was at odds with her happy eyes, changing her entire expression to one of hatred. The sketcher took one look at her, moaned wordlessly, and shoved the drawing away from him in despair.

Enough of this voyeurism, Shadi decided, and unwrapped the cloak of Shadows from his shoulders.

"Maximillion Pegasus," he said, by way of greeting.

The games mogul jerked up. His single visible eye widened in shock when he caught sight of Shadi.

"You… What are you doing here?" Then his shoulders slumped. "Have you come to punish me for losing the Eye?" he asked, hopelessly.

_Lost the Eye? The Millennium Eye? _Belatedly, Shadi searched the mystic threads. The echo of the Eye was strong here, around its bearer of so many years… but it was just an echo. The Eye was gone.

He hid his confusion. "I come to inquire as to how this travesty occurred. In your own words, tell me what took place."

Pegasus buried his face in his hands. He certainly looked broken. He was dressed simply, in a white shirt and plain blue jeans, his customary red nowhere to be seen. His face was drawn and haggard, and he looked as though the last sleep he had gotten had been months ago.

"It was a Shadow Game," he said at last. "I tried to win the Millennium Puzzle, but I failed. And then, when I was tired and weak, I was challenged again. If I had won, I would have gotten another Item. It was - it was too much of a temptation, too golden an opportunity to pass up. Having lost the one, only to have another nearly fall into my lap…! I was a fool - I know that now, but I - I just couldn't give up. _You_ know what I was fighting for! _Who_ I was fighting for… At the very depths of my defeat, I was offered a chance at redemption, another Item, another source of power to use to resurrect my Cecilia." His hand spasmed over the unfinished drawing, his expression twisting into a rictus of grief. "And then I lost it all, everything. I've failed her," he whispered. "I promised I would bring her back. My whole empire was built to bring my bride back from the grave, that was the sole purpose of all of this! And now… Now I have a shell. I have all of the outward trappings, but without my Eye… nothing. Nothing can bring her back to me…"

He fumbled in an open drawer, pulling out a half-empty bottle of Bearhuggers whiskey. Ignoring the tumblers on the sideboard, he tipped back a swallow directly from the bottle.

Setting it down heavily on the desk, Pegasus turned his single eye on Shadi. "Are you really here? I'm not just dreaming again, am I?"

The Egyptian frowned. This was not the man to whom he had entrusted the Eye so many years ago. This was a broken shell. He felt his belly crimp a little with uncertainty. Pegasus had only lost one Item. How would he, Shadi, react when the time came for him to give up _his_ Items?

Never mind this. He picked up the whiskey, capped it, and tucked it amongst his robes. Disgusting stuff, he would dispose of it later. And Pegasus, Eye or not, had a purpose to fulfill.

"You are needed, Pegasus," he said at last. "The balance of fate has been knocked askew, and your assistance is required to set it back to rights."

The one-eyed man reached for the bottle, noticed it was missing, and let his hand fall back to his side. "Why me? Can't you see I'm a wreck? Not fit for anything - not governing my company, not creating new cards, not even for a simple duel. I'm done. Why in heaven's name would you need me?"

That was when Shadi chose to break his personal rule. He came around the desk and placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Because there is no other person who could possibly do the job that needs doing. _You _are the only one, Maximillion. I call you to your duty as a bearer of a Millennium Item."

Pegasus shook his head in sudden anger. "Didn't you hear me? The Eye was taken from me! How can I be a bearer without an Item to bear?"

Shadi merely looked at him. "The Millennium Eye chose _you_. Taken or not, you are still its rightful bearer, and so you are connected with it and it with you. The mystic threads do not break so easily." He turned to walk back towards the door and added over his shoulder, "If you were to come to Domino City, to the residence of Seto Kaiba, tomorrow night, you will have the opportunity to regain your Item. You will certainly get the chance to use it again."

The Path of Shadows swirled open before him as Pegasus started up from his chair. "Wait! What? What do you mean? Tomorrow night?" Faced with a retreating back, the mogul nearly wailed, "Can you at least tell me your name?"

A smile flickered across the Guardian's face. His eyes drifted over a portrait on the wall, of an Egyptian of indeterminate age, clutching a golden ankh. "I am called Shadi," he said, just before he was engulfed by the shadows.


	14. In Which: Bakura Personality Hops

_So. There was a (very short) meteor shower near my place the other night. Made many, many wishes. But, despite all that, YugiOh remains out of my reach and out of my possession. Drat._

_Dedicated to Litzana, who really-really wanted a Bakura cameo! No worries, more to come..._

* * *

**In Which: Bakura Does Enough Personality-Hopping to Make a Kangaroo Jealous**

Ouch.

That's all I've got to say about it. Ouch. Bakura sure fights mean when he fights.

I winced. _Ooh, that's gonna leave a mark. _Poor Tristan. His mother's going to be livid; right in the face, too, ow.

"You dirty, low-down, god-awful, lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch! You take that back! What? Yeah, you, Bakura! What do you mean, what do I mean? Get back here…!"

I finished checking over my laptop; aside from a few crumbs in the keyboard, it didn't appear damaged. The virus scan was still humming along, and I was angry as hell about the security breach, but for now, well… let the muscle do the fighting.

~~~~~**ygo**~~~~~

It had taken us precisely fourteen minutes and twenty-three seconds to get from my garage to Ryou Bakura's front door.

It had taken a mere fraction of a second for the little white-haired thief to go from happy I-couldn't-hurt-a-fly-why-would-you-accuse-me-of-such-a-thing Bakura to I'm-going-to-murder-you-rip-out-your-eyeballs-force-feed-them-to-you-and-then-dance-on-your-grave Bakura.

And a fraction of a second after that, Tristan was on top of him, beating him to a pulp.

Bakura was _trying _to give as good as he got. Wasn't his fault Taylor outweighed him by a good thirty pounds and four inches. Besides the fact that Taylor rocks it in a brawl. Yes, I am definitely going to have to keep him around.

Losing interest in the fight, I cast about the rest of the apartment. Spartan furnishings, except for a really advanced Monster World gameboard - interesting, I wouldn't have pegged Bakura for the dungeon master type - but not much hint of personality anywhere else. A computer in the corner that looked like it saw regular use... interesting. I sat down and started to peruse the machine's history. What I read made me frown. I tapped a few keys, and frowned some more. _What the hell...?_

On the floor, Bakura finally tapped out. "I give, I give! I'm sorry! What did I do to offend you so badly?" Ha. Like anyone would be fooled by _that_ gentle, effeminate voice.

Taylor let him up, though. "Bakura, I thought you were going to get rid of that Ring!" he growled. "Hell, I thought _I'd_ gotten rid of it! What's the matter with you, do you _like_ being possessed?" He gripped the front of the kid's shirt... no, he was reaching inside it. He pulled out a necklace, snapping the cord despite Bakura's protestations and holding it up to the light. I suppressed a shudder. There was that damn eye again... what, was that thing following me? Maybe that freak, that Shadi, had a point. I certainly felt haunted by that cheap Egyptian symbol.

Enough of that. I had far more pressing concerns. "What were you doing with my laptop?" I demanded.

Up until then, their attention had been riveted on one another. Now, however, I had the full and undivided attention of the little thief himself. "I don't know," he said in a posh British accent. "It was here when I came home."

"You're lying! It was stolen from me in the cafeteria today. Tell me what you did with it! Were you looking for more ways to hurt my company? Another hole you could drill? Another hired killer you could send after me?"

Tristan froze. "Kaiba, what...?"

I gestured angrily at the computer. "It's all here, Taylor. This lying, sneaking dung-heap is the one who's trying to put my company under. He's the one who hired Morrison. This little piece of _shit_ is the reason Joey Wheeler is dead."

In a flash, Tristan had Bakura up against the wall. "You goddam son of a bitch! You killed Joey! You goddam bastard!"

"Tristan! Tristan, it wasn't me, I swear!" His wide eyes might have fooled anyone else, but not Taylor.

"You," he growled, fumbling in his pocket for the necklace. "You get your ass back out here! You have a lot to answer for, you jackass!" He jerked a knot into the cord and thrust the pendant over Bakura's head.

There was a weird flash and the white-haired boy's features sublty changed, taking on a harder, crueler look. "Thank you, Taylor. It is always such a pain to return my vessel to my host."

_What in the...?_ But Tristan didn't miss a beat. He slammed Bakura's head back against the wall, rage contorting his features, angry tears coursing down his cheeks. "You! You murdered Joey!"

The suddden impending violence didn't seem to phase Bakura any. He grinned, and even I had to shudder at the cruelty in his gaze. "Joey Wheeler was collateral damage. My host was most upset at his passing. I see that you're still alive, Kaiba," he said, turning his eyes on me.

"Your stooge is in jail," I sneered. "Morrison missed me again."

His eye trailed down my still-bandaged ear, and the corner of his mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly. "Obviously. I shall have to stop relying on patsies and do the dirty work myself."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Tristan grabbed his hands as they dove for the deck at his belt. "You so much as _think _of touching those cards and you're a dead man, Bakura!"

I didn't see what the fuss was about, but then again, so much of tonight was so far beyond my scope of normal that my head was spinning. I grasped at what I knew.

"You're going down, Bakura," I growled. "I will personally see you taken apart for this."

"With what funds?" He laughed at me. "With the information on your laptop, I was able to initiate the complete and utter implosion of Kaiba Corp. Your company has days at best."

"Why? Why target me?"

He was cocky. Even with Tristan looming over him, he still acted as though he had the upper hand. "Why not? You were convenient. And I do so enjoy watching you squirm. The great Seto Kaiba, wriggling like a worm on a hook."

Thought didn't get a chance to intervene. I had Bakura on the ground, pounding the daylights out of him, all finesse forgotten. "You asshole! You bastard! You killed Wheeler! You tried to kill me! You almost killed _Mokuba!_ I'm going to spit on your casket if it's the last thing I do, I swear it!"

I grabbed the cord of his necklace, intending to choke him to death, but, already weakened by Tristan's manhandling, it snapped in my hands. I threw it to one side.

"Stop! Please!" my victim begged, cringing, crying almost.

Taylor caught my arm.

"Let me go!" I bellowed.

"No," he said, gently. "It's not him anymore."

"Looks like him to _me,_" I growled.

"Just trust me, it's not. Bakura, man, you alright?"

The slight kid nodded his head, miserably. "Will someone just please explain what is going on?" he begged.

Tristan held up the Ring in his hand. "Your evil counterpart took over again," he said, like that was supposed to mean anything.

Evidently it did, because Bakura flinched. "How bad?" he asked. The answer must have been written plainly on our faces, because he flinched again. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For whatever it is I - he - I did."

"Just leave the Ring off, will you?"

But I wasn't going to just leave it at that. Standing up, I rounded on Tristan. "Taylor. Explain. Now."

~~~~~***ygo***~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Bakura was sitting on the couch, Tristan had pulled up a chair and was sitting backwards on it, arms folded across the back with Bakura's necklace dangling from one hand, and I was taking advantage of the big open space to pace.

What he - well, they, Bakura couldn't keep his nose out of it - told me felt fantastic. Ancient Egyptian spirits? Millennium Items? Shadow Realm? Shadow _Games?_ "And you're bound up in all of this, Kaiba, though I don't know exactly how. Yugi said he met Shadi before, under some pretty bizare circumstances; I'm inclined to believe him when he talks about mystical stuff." Tristan's mouth twitched. "Wish we could get Yami's take on things. He might have an idea about what's going on."

"Yami." I repeated the unfamiliar name. "That would be the King of Games? Yugi's dueling counterpart?" The one who had trounced me how many times now? Part of me felt relieved that I _hadn't_ lost to such a young kid. The rest of me was just offended. _An ancient spirit ressurrects itself and all he can think of to do with his time is play games?_ _Good grief, if it was _me_, I'd be taking over the world._ My gaze dropped to Bakura, who was eyeing the Ring in Tristan's hand apprehensively, rubbing out a bruise on his arm - somehow, I couldn't quite bring myself to feel sorry about that. _Huh. Maybe White-hair and I have more in common than I thought..._ But still. _My_ company. He wasn't going to have it all his way, no sir. First thing I was going to do when I got home was find out what he'd done and start damage control.

Tristan nodded, responding to my question. "Yeah. Yami's been around since... well, at least since before Duelist Kingdom. Yugi thinks he's been with him since he completed the Puzzle last year, but he couldn't always remember what happened when Yami took over. They've been getting closer since then, though, able to communicate and even control when they switch; they've gotten to be good friends. _Bakura's_ other side, however..."

Bakura winced and took up the tale. "When he takes over, he takes over everything. I can't remember a thing. I don't even know it's happening."

"Sounds like every schizophrenic I've ever talked to."

"It's very like that, yes," the amicable teenager agreed.

I leaned against the wall and ran my hand through my hair. I was so far out of my depth here, I needed a bouy to keep afloat.

Reality. Reality was my bouy. But what was real any more? Hell if I knew.

My eyes dropped to the table, where I'd left my laptop. My computer. That was real. My company. Real. Mokuba. _He_ was real. If I knew nothing else, it was that I had to keep my company alive for Mokuba's sake.

"Tristan?"

His head came up. "Yeah?"

"Home. I need to go home. I need to salvage Kaiba Corp. What's left of it."

"I'll drive," he offered. God help me, I was tempted. But no one gets behind the wheel of my baby who isn't _me_.

We left Bakura's house, the silence stretching between us. I gripped the wrapped leather steering wheel, squeezing it gently, caressing it, my thoughts going in circles.

"Yami, huh?" I finally said.

Tristan looked up, not following.

Oof. This was going to hurt. My pride is never going to recover.

"I think I need to speak to Yugi." I braced myself for the inevitable ribbing.

But Tristan just nodded. "Take the next left," he said. "He lives over his family's game shop."

I took the turn and we drove in silence. I shot a glace over Tristan's way. He was staring out the side window. Huh. If our roles had been reversed, I'd be ridiculing him for asking his greatest rival for help. My respect for the guy went up another couple of notches in spite of myself.

"You doing okay, Kaiba?" he asked.

"Seto," I corrected, knowing that if I thought about it, I wouldn't do it.

"Huh?"

My eyes stayed locked out the front window. "Call me Seto. Guy saves my life - twice - he deserves to call me by my first name. Call me Seto."

He smiled a bit at that, and nodded. "Seto," he agreed.

And then I pressed on the brakes. We were there.

I threw her in park and took a deep breath. God. This was going to be so embarrassing...


	15. In Which: Kaiba Seeks Assistance

_YugiOh = Not mine. Darn._

_Sorry for the long wait, Yugi-fans! Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

_(Review me? Please?)_

* * *

**Chapter 15: In Which: Kaiba Seeks Assistance**

Bakura's Ring clutched firmly in one hand - I was not taking the _slightest _chance that it was going to disappear on me this time - I followed Kai- Seto up the stairs to Yugi's front door. He had to be mortified, asking his mortal enemy for help. Particularly for Kaib- Seto, a guy that prizes his competence in all things. But you gotta give the guy credit, he wasn't slacking.

He knocked on the door, not quite hard enough to call it _pounding_, but most definitely impatient. Maybe I was getting to know Kai- Seto better, but it had the definite ring of _embarrassment_ to my ears. Huh. Interesting, that. Seto covers up a lot of his 'weaker' emotions with gruffness. My mind went spiraling back over all of our previous encounters. What might he have been trying to hide then...?

Yugi answered before I'd rambled too far down memory lane, though. He was rubbing his eyes and had the impression of a spiral-ringed notebook running down one cheek. He was still dressed in the same clothes he'd had on when he and Tea had walked me home... this afternoon? Damn, feels like half a century ago. "Kaiba?" His eyes fell on me. "Tristan? What's going on?" He sounded bewildered, and no wonder.

"We need to talk." Ah, Seto, blunt as ever.

Yugi didn't seem to mind, though. He invited us in, and even managed to rustle up some snacks. My stomach growled at the sight of the food, and I remembered I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch.

Once we were sitting, and I was eating - Seto didn't seem hungry for some reason - Yugi looked between the pair of us. "Okay, guys, spill. What's up?"

Seto looked him over a minute. "I don't want to talk to _you_. I want to talk to the other one."

"Other one...?" He glanced at me, but Kaiba wasn't going to be ignored.

"Yes. The King of Games, Yugi. I know he's in there with you. I need to speak with him."

"Kaiba, I don't know what you're talking about," Yugi hedged.

I swallowed the mouthful I had been chewing, and checked that the Ring was still in my hand. "It's alright, Yug'. He knows. Shadi paid us a visit today."

Yugi blinked. "Shadi? Really?"

"Does the term _Soul Room_ mean anything to you?" Seto growled. "Because we went on a pretty interesting tour of _mine_. And the freaky Egyptian talked a lot about things that don't make sense. Taylor here thought your other half might have some input on it. So let him out, the two of us have words to say."

"Uh, Seto...?"

He ignored me, standing up to loom over Yugi. "Well? Come on out, King of Games, unless you're too much of a coward to face me!"

Whoops. Yugi went from looking cowed and slightly frightened to commanding and confident in the blink of an eye. "Don't you dare threaten me," he warned, his voice an octave deeper. _Ladies and gentlemen, Yami is in the house..._

*****~~~ygo~~~*****

"Yami?"

"There are easier ways to get an audience with me than intimidating my partner, Kaiba," Yami growled. "I don't take kindly to threats."

No kidding. I'd seen the results of more than one of Yami's little Penalty Games. Maybe I ought to have briefed Seto a bit more thoroughly...

The billionaire smirked. "Nice to formally meet you at last, Yami. Since we've been rivals for over a year now. You'd think someone would've clued me in that I was calling you by the wrong name. Not very nice."

Yami glared. "I trust you have a good reason for summoning me, Kaiba? Or are you just here to blow steam?"

Oi. I could've just about smacked my forehead. What was it about duelists that made 'em all compare deck sizes whenever they got together? It was machismo to the nerd level.

Time for the trusty sidekick to provide a much needed intervention. "Bakura's dark side got Joey killed," I told Yami.

_That_ got his attention.

"What?"

I waved the Ring. "We just came from his place. Turns out that Dark Bakura was trying to take over Kaiba Corp on the sly - he hired Morrison to kill Seto in an attempt at a palace coup. Joey was caught in the middle in the first attack."

"What?" Yami jumped up in shock.

"There's more," Seto put in. "Shadi paid me a visit. We had a very interesting show-and-tell session with his Scales."

Yami's lips twitched. "You didn't meet Ammit, by any chance, did you?"

Seto glared. "That creature is not the point. The Scales are tipping. And according to Shadi, that's a very bad thing."

"Bad how?"

"End-of-the-world bad," I put in. "Again. You know, you Egyptians ought to get more constructive hobbies."

They both pinned me with stares. You know how disconcerting that is? Very, that's what. Being the intelligent muscle that I am, I shut up.

"And apparently it was Joey's death that set it all off," Seto continued, as though he'd never been interrupted. "Threw off the cosmic balance, or something. Who knew the mutt had it in him?"

Yami growled low, but I knew better. I'd been in Seto's Soul Room; I knew how Joey haunted him. His flippancy was him trying to keep his balance.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Seto shrugged. "When I have a computer problem, I contact a computer specialist. When I have a PR problem, I contact my PR rep. When I have a problem that involves ancient Egyptian spirits and weird Eye talismans, I go to the expert. You."

Yami blinked. "Thank you... I think."

"So how about it, Yami? What's going on with Joey, Shadi, and these weird talismans?" He gestured with his faux Rod to make his point. Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that thing. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

And Yami, too, apparently. His eyes lit up and he was at Seto's side in moments. "May I?" he asked, and Seto handed it over.

"It's not the real thing, so far as... what did Shadi call 'em? Millennium Items? It's not an actual Millennium Item," he explained. "Just something I picked up in my Soul Room." He snorted. "If not for that thing, I wouldn't believe it had actually been real. Gave me a great idea for a game, though," he mused.

"He created it out of his cards," I told Yami. "We were being chased through his Soul Room and Seto just created a doorway. That thing followed us back to the real world."

"He _created_ a Millennium Item? In his Soul Room? And, wait, you were there as well, Tristan?" I nodded assent, but I don't think he noticed. He was turning the rod over and over in his hands, examining it minutely.

"Incredible," he muttered. "Absolutely incredible."

Seto, meanwhile, was getting impatient. "Enough with the costume jewelry, Yami," he said. "What does it mean? What's going on?"

Yami shook his head. "I can't honestly say, Kaiba. I may be an ancient spirit, but my memories are patchy, at best."

"Great. So you don't know anything?"

Yami - _reluctantly_ - shook his head. "Not about any of this, no. I'd have to consult my own Egyptian expert." A frown crossed Yami's lips. I knew who he was thinking of - Yugi's grandfather, the man who had discovered the Millennium Puzzle in the first place. But Mr. Mutou didn't know about Yami, and I had a feeling that both of the spirits inhabiting Yugi's body would prefer to keep it that way.

"And that would be...?" Seto led.

There came a flash of lightning by the balcony, illuminating a figure that had not been there seconds before.

"That would be me."


	16. In Which: Shadi Appears Yet Again

_I have a dream! A dream in which I can say 'I own YugiOh!' Aaaaannnndddd... no. Nope, still don't own. _

_Note from the author: Well. Two months of work and this is all I've managed to get down. *winces* I've messed and messed with it, and my muse just isn't going to be bullied any further on this particular chapter. Sorry it's so short... Hopefully the next one will be sooner and longer. Hope you all enjoy! _

_Editor, you are officially to blame for what's going to happen in Chapter 18 (I think)... well, you'll know it when it happens.  
And D, whoever you are - thanks for giving me the oomph to shake up my muse again. She responds well to reviews. Kinda like Pavlov's dog..._

_Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Y'all are the best!_

* * *

**Chapter 16: In Which Shadi Makes Yet Another Appearance**

"Shadi."

"We were just talking about you."

"What are you doing in my home?"

The Egyptian stepped through the door, into the light. "You convene a council of war, I see. Very wise, Seto Kaiba."

"Council of war, nothing," I growled. "We're trying to figure out what game you're playing."

"It is no game," he corrected with a frown. "This is deadly serious. I reiterate, you are wise to have brought the Chosen One into this; his power will be vital to the success of the ritual."

"Ritual?" Yami's voice was wary. "I will have nothing to do with any ritual of yours until you tell me what's going on. In plain terms, if you please."

"You have no authority over me, Chosen One or no," the Egyptian countered.

I caught the barest mutter from Tristan's corner, "Good grief, I haven't seen this many alpha-males going at each others throats since they disbanded the wrestling team." I tamped down a smile. _What an idiot. _

Still... I clutched my rod tighter. This _was_ serious. And that Shadi-fellow was seriously freaking me out. Especially those Scales of his. I narrowed my eyes when he set them on the table; they were perceptibly lower than they had been mere hours ago. At this rate, we had _maybe _twenty-four hours left.

I listened while he explained his little Scale-things to Yami - the 'Chosen One.' Eesh, as if he didn't think he was special enough already! Destiny, faugh. There's no such thing. A man makes his _own_ way in the world; anyone who believes otherwise is just fooling himself. Still... Yami is no fool. I grunted my frustration and tuned back in to the Egyptian's explanation.

"...need to combine the magic remaining in this time to rectify that which has been done, and set the axis of fate back on course," Shadi was finishing up. Yami was nodding, like it made perfect sense to him.

"But how? You said yourself that the magic of this era is diluted. Where will we get enough power to forestall the apocalypse?"

Shadi indicated the pendant hanging around Yami's neck. "You carry a Millennium Item and you have to ask?"

"_One_ Item. And I don't have all my memories, or don't you remember?"

The Egyptian tapped the ankh hanging at his own neck. "Plus two."

"And Bakura, he has the fourth. Do you think maybe Pegasus... No, his Eye was stolen, that's right," Yami trailed off into a mutter.

"The Millennium Eye is closer than you think," Shadi intoned. "Closer than even I imagined."

"What do you mean by that?"

That damned sly half-grin again. "There will be a confluence of power at the home of Seto Kaiba tomorrow evening. Be there - we shall need every one of you." He stared directly at me. "_Every_ one of you."

"Why should I listen to you?" I ignored Tristan's annoyed mutter of 'Seto!' and settled instead for glaring at the Egyptian.

Was there no way to ruffle this dude's feathers? He simply stared at me. "I could give you many reasons. But, I think, the most basic reason that you _will_ be there is that you are simply curious. You cannot stand for something this monumental to occur and you not be there. Until tomorrow, then, Seto Kaiba, Chosen One... Taylor." He nodded to the room at large and stepped into black shadows that whorled briefly beyond the balcony doors and then settled into a recognizable pattern of reality once again as soon as Shadi was gone.

"Well, that was bizarre..." Tristan muttered.

_Indeed..._ "I'm going home," I decided abruptly, standing. "You coming, Tristan?"

He looked from me to Yugi and back. Yami had the strangest look on his face.

"Nah. I'm gonna stay here for a bit. See you tomorrow, Seto."

"See you."

As I left, I heard Yami mutter, "'_Seto?_'" and Tristan's reply, "It's a long story..."

Some perverse part of me wondered how long it would take for either of them to notice that the creepy Egyptian was a thief as well as a home invader. The Ring Tristan had taken off of Bakura was gone.


	17. In Which: Kaiba Reaches Resolution

_Next chapter! Wow, that was fast..._

_No, I don't own YugiOh. _

_Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter! You're awesome! This one's for all my readers; I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

**Chapter 17: Kaiba Reaches Resolution**

Home.

As soon as I hit the front door, I headed straight for my bedroom. Ignored my computer, ignored everything else, just went straight for my bedside table. Pulled out the drawer and opened the secret compartment in the bottom, where I kept everything that was especially precious to me. Lifted out the few sheets of paper that were there, and spread them over my comforter. And breathed, for what felt like the first time in days.

What do other business moguls keep in their secret stashes? Money? Deeds? Bank notes?

Me? I keep something far more valuable.

My family smiled up at me from the photo on top. Mother. Father. Mokuba - only a tuft of black hair in Mother's arms in this picture. Me, so young I can't even remember when it was taken. My secret heart-of-hearts.

The second sheet. A sketch I'd made just before Gozaburo adopted us. A rough plan of a carnival, a theme park. _'Someday, I'm going to build this,'_ I'd told my little brother. _'So that every kid in the world can have fun.'_ I set that one aside. I hadn't done it yet, hadn't even thought about Kaiba Land in years. Maybe later. After I salvaged what I could of my company. After I figured out how to wrest it back from the edge of oblivion. If I was even able to...

The third and last sheet.

I touched it, smiling. What would Mokuba say if he knew that I'd kept this? I'm just a sentimental fool; I ought to have ditched this years ago, along with all the other reminders of my past, but this one... No. I couldn't get rid of it.

The paper was wrinkled, the wax crayon colors faded a bit. But it was unmistakably the first Blue Eyes I'd ever owned - a drawing that my little brother had done for me to keep me motivated during the months and years of torture that our adoptive father had put me through, training me up to be the ideal heir to the weapons company that was Kaiba Corp. I'd learned, all right, and kicked the bastard right off his throne. And then I'd gotten three real Blue Eyes White Dragons, and didn't need the silly drawing that my stupid younger brother had made for me...!

My mouth twitched, remembering. I'd been such an asshole back then - had it really been less than a year ago? I was worse than Gozaburo. It had taken Yugi's - no, _Yami's_ - duel with me to teach me to value my brother. I smoothed out the paper. I still couldn't believe that this drawing had survived.

Sleep beckoned. And why not? Just this afternoon, I'd been shot at; my ear throbbed with the memory of the slug whistling past, ripping a chunk of flesh as it went. Just this evening, I'd had my mind invaded by a mystic trespasser who was convinced that _I_ held the key to saving the world, and then he, Tristan (and that was maybe the weirdest part of the night, Tristan and I moving on to a first-name basis), and I taking a detour into his mind - from which I came back with a _souvenir_. Seriously, who comes back from a dream still holding onto the stuff they dreamed about? I could think of a few more interesting things I'd've brought back from some of my dreams if I knew the knack of it... And then, just tonight, I'd learned that my company was being destroyed by a frigging _high school student_, a _schizophrenic_ high school student, at that. And he'd finished the job, if he was to be believed. Also, everyone from the freaky Egyptian on down was in on this 'Yugi is Yami and they're both the Chosen One' - whatever _that _meant - conspiracy, and I was supposedly some sort of reincarnated Yugi-crony from who knows how far back.

Oh, and apparently Joey's death was an accident that the fates hadn't authorized and because of that, I was going to be the guest of honor at a worldwide apocalypse, courtesy of the freaky eye that kept popping up everywhere.

How was your day, Seto?

Oh, fine. Normal. Nothing too far out of the ordinary.

Right.

I really ought to get up. Start plugging holes, try to salvage my company.

Oh, forget it. I'm so far out of it, I'm liable to start hallucinating, Millennium Items or no.

Speaking of... Ah. Here. I pulled my rod - not Rod, if the mystic bunch are to be believed, whatever, _I_ still think it looks cool - out of my coat pocket. The last thing I remember seeing before darkness claimed me was Mokuba's drawing, resting on top of the freaky winged eye at the top of my rod. Fitting, that. No Kaiba will be ruled by anything other than his own will. So-called 'destiny' can't stand up to my iron determination...

Zzzzzzz..

~~~~ygo~~~~

_I was pounding at the door, shoving at it with my shoulder, my feet, anything that could get leverage. The cabin was filling with smoke, flames licking at the upholstery, blistering waves of heat washing against the bare skin of my face. Mokuba was coughing somewhere behind me, dry, heaving gasps for air, hacking as acrid smoke filled his lungs instead. I smashed at the door, desperate to save my little brother, screaming for help. _

_Then the entire back of the car is cloven in two, sheared away like butter before a hot knife. A figure, so wreathed in flames that I know he is not standing in them, he is their source, stands in the billowing fire, wielding a sword so white-hot I have to shield my eyes to look at him. "Who are you?" I ask, and he raises his blade. The light falls on his face. "Joey…" I've had this nightmare before, over and over. He's come to kill me, to take his revenge._

_But I haven't the energy for resistance tonight, no desire to beg. I bow my head, baring my neck to his sword. "Strike true," I tell him, and wait._

_And wait._

_I look up. Joey is shaking his head. "Kaiba, you idiot," he says, affection in his voice. "You think I wanna kill ya? After I saved your life?"_

"_It's not… not equitable," I say._

"_Equitable-schmequitable, life doesn't work that way. Chill out, dude." He licked his fingertips and extinguished his blade. The flames around us died out too, until it was just him and me, standing on the street. He reached out and chucked me on the arm. "If Tristan can change his mind about you – and I can change my mind about you – and Yugi and Yami can change _their_ minds about you, then why can't you change your mind about yourself? Doesn't make sense, man."_

_I didn't know what to say to that, and Joey turned and started to walk away. Just before he was out of sight, he turned and waved over his shoulder. "See you tonight!" he called._

_Somehow, that didn't sound like a threat so much as a promise._

~~~~ygo~~~~

I spent the next morning at my office, skipping school for once so that I could try and keep my company afloat. Not that it was working – Bakura had screwed me over but good. Every loophole, every weakness, every single chink in the armor of my business had been and was being exploited. I had a week, tops, as CEO of the company that bore my name. The stockholders were rumbling unhappily, and I was anticipating a hostile takeover. Mokuba called and begged to be brought home, but I couldn't allow that. When this thing all went down the toilet, I wanted my little brother as far from me as I could get him… and in a place that I knew was safe. There was enough money saved up for the pair of us to live comfortably for some time.

Always provided I survived whatever ritual Shadi had planned, of course.

Just past noon, I just said 'screw it.' I wasn't getting anything done, and there was nothing to be done, anyhow. Bakura had done too good of a job. I was sunk.

It was just as well. If Shadi was to be believed, I was dead anyway. As was the whole world. That was some consolation, I supposed. If I had to die, at least I wasn't going to be alone in my defeat. Heh. Hadn't Shadi said that I was going to be the first to die, followed by those closest to me? I was going to make sure that I was arm-in-arm with Bakura when the end came. Posthumous revenge. I liked the sound of that.

I picked up the phone and pressed speed dial. "Hey, Tristan? Want to play hooky this afternoon?"


	18. In Which: Bakura Gets Drafted

_Whoops. Almost forgot to tuck this in there... Hang tight everybody! The Ritual is coming up next!_

_To everyone who's been following this and waiting for updates: I am SO SO SORRY! I can only plead distraction and procrastination. Things should pick up, though, as I speed to the end. I've already gotten it practically written in my head, so the process of getting it down in type can't be too hard, right? Right? _

_In other news, I'd like to apologize in advance to all the Bakura lovers out there. It occurred to me that I'd made his presence at the Ritual a necessity, but how the heck does a dark spirit bent on world domination get roped into something so benign and altruistic as saving the world? Answer: He doesn't. Not without a whole lotta incentive. Hence, let me introduce 'incentive.' *evil grin* I also have to apologize for my deviation from my usual first person writing style here - I had the entire thing written before I looked back and went, 'wtf? what have I done?' I tried rewriting it, but it lost a lot of the pizazz in the translation so I left it as-is. Looking back on the overall story, I'm not sure what I was thinking, having the switching viewpoints written first person... gets confusing. I can only claim ignorance, this being my first serious fanfic and all. Hope you'll all forgive me!_

* * *

Not one to let things fall to chance, Shadi made his last stop of the night the home of Ryou Bakura.

"Hell no."

He was not pleased to be asked to help save the world.

"Your participation is not voluntary. It is _mandatory_. You will do your part to ensure this ritual succeeds."

The white-haired teenager crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow. "And if I refuse?"

Shadi hated to resort to threats. He really did. It was completely undignified.

He did it anyway. Force was all that this creature would understand. And he didn't have time to waste with less direct methods.

Reaching out, one hand on his Key and the other on his Scales, Shadi tapped the end of the Ankh against Bakura's chest. Startled, the spirit recoiled, and as he did...he shredded.

"Gah!" The dark spirit of the Ring looked down at the body he was currently _not_ inhabiting. The body, for its part, slowly crumpled to the floor. Tattered rags of the spiritual bond that held the spirit to the Ring were slowly pulling free, like taffy stretched too far, too thin. "What have you done to me?"

"A key may lock," Shadi replied, dispassionately. "It may also _un_lock. I have released you from your bond with the Millennium Ring. Now I shall weigh your heart and if you fail, you shall be banished into the depths of hell."

"You can't do this to me," he snarled. "I've woven a spell into my host - if I die, he dies. Would you kill _him _to kill me?" he pointed down at Bakura, whose face was slowly turning blue from lack of oxygen.

Shadi merely shrugged. "Then the Ring will go dormant until it is passed to a new bearer."

Rage suffused the spirit's face at his trump card being called for a bluff. "If you destroy me, the world dies too!" he cried in desperation.

Shadi merely held forth the Scales. A feather materialized on one of the plates, which, as part of this ritual, had rebalanced themselves. "Now your heart," said Shadi, extending his hand towards the spirit's chest. A dark, crimson ring of light formed there, growing brighter and brighter as the Egyptian's fingers reached out, pulsing with the terrified _thump-thump-thumpthumpthump_ of his heart as it was drawn, slowly, from his ribcage.

He screamed. "Enough!" shouted the spirit. "I'll do it! I'll do it, just leave me in my host!"

Shadi ceased his forward momentum an inch away from the shredding flesh of the spirit. "And the Millennium Eye. Both Items shall be needed."

The dark one groaned in agony. "Yes, yes, I agree, just stop. ...Please!"

"Any trickery and we shall repeat this over again," Shadi warned, but the spirit was beyond pain, clutching his chest and groaning as he nodded.

The Egyptian dropped his hand. Instantly the light faded and the dark spirit sank down into his host body. The eyes of Bakura opened and narrowed with hatred.

Shadi did not wait for him to speak. "Tomorrow night. The home of Seto Kaiba. Be there, with both of the Items in your possession. Or else we shall repeat this venture, and your spirit rendered unto the Void." He opened a portal into the shadows and stepped through.

Bakura spat at his back, but the globule fell harmlessly to the carpeted floor as the shadows coalesced into reality once more. "Damn him," he muttered.

It went against the grain, against the very fiber of his being, to help those goody-goodies. But he dared not disobey the robed mystic. The consequences were too terrifying.

Fury at his own impotence sent his fist flying into the Monster World game board, cracking it down the middle. Unsatisfied, he proceeded to lay waste to the entire apartment, until his host body succumbed to exhaustion and he slept.

* * *

"Bakura! You look terrible," Yugi exclaimed the next day.

The white-haired boy was tousled, dark rings under his eyes. "I didn't sleep very well last night," he confessed. "And I think someone broke in - my place was trashed." He held up hands that were cut and bruised. "Or else... something broke _out_." His eyes radiated his fear.

Yugi put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

* * *

_Just as a side note - I always thought that was pretty callous of Yugi and Co. Their friend gets periodically taken over by massive evil and they don't really expend a lot of effort trying to save him. Gotta be terrifying for the poor kid, knowing evil's inside him and he can't stop it from coming out. _


	19. In Which: The Ritual Begins

_No owneth YugiOh. _

_*ahem* So, it's been four months... *shuffles ashamedly* Sorry y'all! I got distracted by another fic (worth checking out, btw, though it starts off remarkably like this one... Curious coincidence, that), and then I had rabid fans after me for the next chapter of 'Trust,' what happens next, what happens next...! I've had this little beastie sitting at the back of my mind for awhile now, though, scratching at the bars and demanding its time in the sun. So here we go. The nod to Kaiba's folks was an unintentional side-note, though one that turned out well, I thought. And the Ritual Commences!_

_As always, read, review, enjoy!_

* * *

I gotta admit, Kaiba's call came out of _nowhere_. I mean, literally. _Nowhere_. Not that I minded; I hadn't studied for the math test and was just as glad for an excuse to skip. Actually, I didn't have to really _skip_ at all. I just told the teacher that I was still pretty shaken by my close call yesterday - yesterday, good _grief_ - and she let me off with a nod and assurances that I could make it up later.

Which was how I found myself being picked up curb-side by Seto twenty minutes after his call.

"Hey."

"Hey. Nice ride." It was a different one than the sports car he'd careened around in last night. How many cars did he have? I hated to ask. He probably wouldn't be getting to keep them long, in any case.

"Thanks."

And that was the limit of our conversation. We cruised through a burger joint's take-out line and munched on fries while Seto negotiated the way to, well, wherever the heck we were going. He was pretty close-mouthed about it. Typical Kaiba, heh. If he ever said more than four sentences together, I'd eat my socks.

We pulled up at the cemetery and got out, bringing our greasy paper bags of fast food with us. Thinking I knew where we were going, I headed off towards Joey's grave site, not realizing I was alone until I heard a clearing throat behind me.

I turned around. Seto jerked his head left and turned, walking off among the headstones. I followed. Seto's steps started out firm, deliberate, but before too long, he started pausing, hesitating, backtracking once. Finally, he stopped in front of a single, wide stone, shaded by the gnarled branches of an old tree that grew nearby. He knelt and laid his hand on the carved block, which was too low to comfortably touch from a standing position. It was a simple stone, not fine, no intricate details. Just two names and four dates, and the grass and weeds obscured even those. Not quite a pauper's grave, it certainly lacked any sort of ostentation, or even basic care.

We stood there for I-don't-know-how-long, a frozen tableau, him on his knees, a supplicant at some holy shrine, me waiting awkwardly nearby.

Finally, he spoke, but it was not to me.

"Sorry for not coming earlier, Mom, Dad."

Spell broken, I eased forward. "These are your parents?" I asked in a quiet tone. I'd thought - with as wealthy as Seto was - their stone would be... bigger. More.

He nodded, not looking at me, hand trailing over the stone, wiping away dirt and grime. "They died a long time ago, when Mokuba was barely out of diapers. Our relatives took all the money and dumped us at an orphanage. I haven't been back here since the funeral."

"...I'm sorry." Why had he brought _me_ here, of all people? Of all places?

"It's alright," he said, finally. "Like I said, it was a long time ago." In a careful gesture disguised as a careless swipe, he wiped the grimy patina from his mother's name, catching his father's on the way back. _No, _I thought. _This is far more than he's letting on. My god... the first time he's been here in over a decade and he brings _me_ with him? _I was shaken to my core at the level of trust he'd placed in me. I suppose I should have been honored.

I was scared spitless.

A minute more and Seto rose, brushing off the knees of his suit pants. We retreated to the parking lot, and sat down to enjoy our cold hamburgers. Seto broke the silence first. "You've had more experience with Yu- Yami than I have, Tristan. What sort of ritual are we looking at tonight?"

So. We weren't going to talk about what had just happened. I let it go. "No idea," I told him. "Yami's making it up as he goes along; this is Shadi's deal. And I'm not entirely sure _he _knows what he's doing, either."

"That's reassuring," Seto muttered.

"Mm," I agreed. We lapsed into another brooding silence, and I pulled out Joey's Red Eyes card, idly turning it over in my hands. Seto was doing something similar with his deck, hands toying with the cards while his thoughts were elsewhere. I wasn't surprised to see his Blue Eyes show up a couple of times at the top of his deck. He seemed to draw as much comfort from that card as a kid with a teddy bear.

Finally, he tucked his deck into its carrying case and stood up. The shadows were starting to lengthen, though sunset was still a little ways off. "Guess we'd better go. Do you want me to drop you off at your place? Not sure you want to be around for - whatever it is that's going to happen tonight."

I gave him a withering glare. "No way are you facing this alone. I'm going to be there if I have to fight your security team single-handed. Speaking of...?" I trailed off, suggestively.

He shrugged. "With Morrison gone, there's no point in keeping them." And private security is expensive, yeah.

He wound up dropping me off at Yugi's, with my firm promise that we'd both be at his mansion in time for the ritual. We shook hands on it, and then he was off to make a few preparations alone.

~~~~ygo~~~~

Yugi's grandfather dropped us off in front of Seto's mansion. Yugi frankly goggled. I, having been here before (even if it was only the previous night), was immune to the effects of the vast stone facade stretching out and out and out and out...

Mostly.

Seto answered the door himself, greeting us with a ridiculously over-done smile of warmth and gratitude.

"Finally. You're late," he glowered.

Okay, so maybe not.

He led the way to a room large enough to play sports in. Yugi bumped my elbow and pointed towards the ceiling, where the inert arms of holographic imagers were suspended. "It's a gaming room," he muttered to me.

I nodded my understanding. "State-of-the-art," I agreed. One corner of Seto's mouth twitched up, but he gave no other indication that he heard us.

At our approach, the scattered persons coalesced around Shadi's central figure. My eyebrows twitched up. I'd been half-expecting Bakura, though I was a bit disconcerted to see the Ring on his chest and the Evil-Bakura grin on his face. Thought I'd taken care of that...

But what was _Pegasus_ doing here? And how had Seto managed to get them all in the same room?

Well. Judging by the glower on Seto's face and the way his aura-of-menace expanded as the games mogul approached, I suppose that it was more Shadi's doing than Seto's. Still must have taken some doing to get him to come here, though. I had hoped - really, sincerely hoped - that Pegasus was miserable and had been put through hell for what he'd done to all of us back at Duelist Kingdom. He still wore that smug little smirk of his, though his clothing was more subdued than I'd ever seen it - downright casual, in fact.

"Yugi-boy! What a pleasure!" he said by way of greeting.

Yami took over and stared coolly at his former foe. "Pegasus."

"What, that's all the greeting I get? And after we spent such lovely times together, too. Ah, well, that's the way the cookie crumbles!" He laughed, a bit too loudly, too ostentatiously.

"Yugi. Tristan. Good to see you again," purred Bakura, joining the circle.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," I growled. "Nice shiner, Bakura."

He touched his eye and an evil smile crept across his face. "Not nearly so nice as yours," he replied. "Tell me, did Mummy-dearest have a fit when she saw you?"

She had, but I wasn't going to admit it to this freak. "How'd Shadi manage to get you here?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I just thought I'd come for curiosity's sake."

"Right."

Shadi, imperturbable as always, beckoned us closer with a single, curt gesture. "The time approaches," he said. "We must convene the circle."

He directed Yami to a spot on the floor, a few paces from where the Scales were placed on a raised plinth. I frowned. The bowl was almost touching the surface; there wasn't much time left. Seto went to Yami's right, Bakura on Yami's left. Then he paused. Didn't say a word, just held out his hand.

Bakura growled. Shadi lifted one eyebrow, just a twitch.

Glowering, Bakura slid his hand into his pocket and worked out a - relatively - large metal sphere. I only caught a glimpse, but there's no forgetting that thing. Pegasus' Eye.

And Pegasus knew it, too. He lurched forward half a pace as Shadi turned to him, hands out, eyes fixated on the object in the Egyptian's hand.

Shadi held the Item out to him. "Use this for the duration of the ceremony. When it is over, the two of you may sort out its possession between yourselves." Pegasus nodded, but his gaze was riveted on the Eye and I'm not sure he heard what Shadi was saying. He took it with a glad cry, clasping it like a child with a precious trinket, before turning his back and raising his hands to his face.

_Ew. _I was insanely glad that he'd turned around. I _so_ did not want to see him putting that thing back in. Especially since it was obviously painful, from the way he was twitching. I think the others felt the same way, judging by the various looks of revulsion on Yami and Seto's faces. Bakura just looked hateful. Shadi, naturally, didn't show a thing.

When Pegasus turned around his good eye was watering, but that look of dominance was back on his face. Huh. It was a pity - he looked much more human without that metal monstrosity glaring out at the world.

Speaking of glares... if mere looks could kill, Pegasus would've been dead on the spot. We're talking _doornail_ here. And I thought Evil-Bakura hated _Yugi_.

Rather intelligently, I thought, Shadi shunted Pegasus all the way across the circle from Bakura. Which put him right next to Seto, who looked peeved and not a little bit tense; not that I blame him. The last time Pegasus had possession of that Eye, he'd trapped both of the Kaiba brothers' souls in cards. Something about the way that Shadi glared at him, though, made me think that he would tolerate no shenanigans tonight.

Shadi took the final point in the five-sided star, leaving me on the outside looking in, as usual. And this time, with no Joey or Tea to join me in the cheerleading squad, it felt... lonely. Like I was truly being left out.

I didn't have long to wallow in self-pity, though, since Shadi began his Ritual right away. He began chanting in some language I certainly didn't understand, and I was pretty certain none of the others did either. _Ancient Egyptian, maybe?_ It would certainly fit with his motif. I wanted to make a snarky comment, but there was no one to listen to it - Joey was gone and Seto was otherwise occupied. He was almost directly across from me, and I could see from the way his hand tightened on his Rod that he was nervous, though he gave no other sign of it, stock-stone-still as always.

Something was happening in the circle. Light flared up from the Scales, ribbons of white weaving around one central pole. Slowly, the ribbons unfurled, touching down one by one on the Millennium Items each participant carried, first Yami, then Shadi, then Bakura, then Pegasus. It hesitated for what seemed an age over Seto and his faux-Rod, but at last, seeming to decide that blood or power or an ancient soul or whatever was potent enough, it touched down on him.

The tone of Shadi's chanting changed, and so did the light, growing almost solid-looking, linking each of the Items to the Scales. Small tendrils flared out from these central spokes, a gossamer web of light. It was beautiful.

But fragile. Even as I watched, it faltered, the thinnest, outermost tendrils fading into nothing. If I hadn't been standing behind him, I'd never have noticed the almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders as Shadi's efforts redoubled, his chanting getting faster, louder, until he was almost shouting. But it wasn't working. The webbing was all retreating now, and even the central spokes were starting to grow weaker.

_There's not enough power. _The realization washed over me like a cold wave. It wasn't enough. The world was going to be destroyed.


	20. In Which: Destiny Goes Mobius Shaped

_Ritual Continuation! Woohoo! Still don't own YuGiOh... darn. _

_Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! This is the penultimate chapter, and one that I've been aiming toward since before I started this fic, a whole year ago now. Wow. UtS is a year old, and still not finished... Well, no one ever accused me of being punctual. *ashamed shuffling of feet* For those who have been with me since the beginning, thank you! For those just joining us, thank you! Y'all are my inspiration in the cold, lonely periods of writers block whilst I struggle to set pen to paper... _

_Okay, so I'll cut the melodrama. Hope you all enjoy it! _

_PS - EditorIncredulous, this one's for you. Yes, you called it, way back when. I just can't help myself; I love foreshadowing. For those wondering where those little plot-hints happened, see Chapters 2, 3, and, to a slightly lesser extent, 13. And if anyone cares to point out one that I might have missed, please do! My brain likes playing tricks on me sometimes, and I like to see where my head was at.  
_

* * *

_There's not enough power. _The realization washed over me like a cold wave. It wasn't enough. The world was going to be destroyed.

I couldn't bear it, sitting here, not doing anything. I lurched forward. Don't ask me what I intended to do, _I_ sure as hell had no idea. I just knew that if I could help at all, I had to be in that circle.

The instant my foot touched the perimeter, an almost visible shock wave erupted through the magic. The central pole of light convulsed and Seto shouted a warning, but it was too late; I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. The pole dropped toward me like a falling tree, enveloping me in solid light. Needle pricks spread over my skin, blazing hot and incredibly fast; I felt like I was getting an instant whole-body tattoo, though when I looked down, my skin was unmarked.

Shadi and Bakura shifted over, making room for me in the now six-pointed star. And I saw, with relief, that the webbing was spreading once again. _I hadn't hurt anything. I'd helped. I was needed._

Shadi's chanting fell off to a mumble, and then to nothing as the final threads made their last, solid connections to one another. The Egyptian stared across the circle at Yami. "Have you the deck of Joey Wheeler? The one in which he invested his heart?"

Yami nodded, pulling the familiar deck from a second carrying case slung about his hips. "Right here."

"And every card is there?"

I slid the Red Eyes card from my pocket. "I have the last one right here."

Shadi turned to me, eyes narrowed, calculating. Then he nodded, as though satisfied. _Damn it, I wish that guy would just unpack already - what is he thinking?_

"Very good. And now, we summon the soul of Joey Wheeler to this place."

He'd barely spoken when I felt the card tugged from my hand. Yami lost his grip on the rest of Joey's deck, and the cards were pulled into a swirling vortex of bright sparkles of light. The cards seemed to melt together and then faded away, leaving a transparent, floating figure that only gradually resolved into the form of my dead best friend.

"Joey!"

I don't know who spoke first, me or Yami - or was it Yugi? His features flashed a couple of times, so I was pretty sure that both personalities knew what was happening. Regardless, it didn't make any difference. The spirit of Joey was sleeping or dormant or something; regardless, his eyes were closed and he didn't so much as twitch.

Shadi was nodding. "And now, we summon his body to this place."

He stretched out his hand and a stone sarcophagus appeared in the middle of the circle, just beside the floating spirit. The sound of stone grating across stone reverberated against the walls as the lid shifted aside, and Shadi called out, "Come forth!"

Nothing happened.

The Egyptian frowned. "Come forth!" he ordered again, and I think I was the only one close enough to notice a bead of sweat forming on his cheek.

"Something wrong?" Bakura asked, a smile twisting his face.

Shadi didn't bother to reply as he focused his attention on the empty sarcophagus. "You! Chosen One! Have you anything with a connection to the physical remains of Joey Wheeler? Anything to use as an anchor to pull him here?" But Yami was already shaking his head.

"No. Only his cards, and those have already been used."

Shadi muttered under his breath. "Not enough power... I was a fool to attempt this..."

Then the last voice I expected spoke up.

"I do."

Seto suddenly found himself on the receiving end of several very shocked looks. His shoulders tensed and that stone mask fell even more firmly across his features. He shuffled through his deck and pulled out his two Blue Eyes without even looking. "I put the third one in the coffin with Wheeler," he said, in that casual way of his that he used to disguise so many 'weak' emotions. "They've been a combination for so long - they should be able to pull together with no problem."

I stared at him. So much of the last several weeks suddenly made sense. _So that's how he honored Joey. _I was stunned. _He broke up his winning combination for him. That was the price he paid. No wonder he decked me for that comment._ I owed him such an apology after this. It was an apology I would gladly make.

_What a tribute._

Yami apparently agreed with me, staring open-mouthed at his rival. It took him several seconds to recover, and when he did he said what we were both thinking. "Thank you, Kaiba. You're a good man."

"Shut it," Seto growled. _Ah, Seto. _A man of few words and fewer emotions. "Will it be enough?" he asked Shadi.

The Egyptian didn't reply. The two Blue Eyes flew out of his hands and sped into the sarcophagus. A flash of blue-and-red light, and Joey's body rose from the stone mouth to hover beside his spirit. You know, for being three weeks dead, he didn't look so bad.

"Chosen One!"

Yami didn't hesitate. He pulled the card from his deck and held it out to the body and spirit of Joey Wheeler. "Polymerization!" he declared. There was a weird smearing and blurring, and suddenly the two Joeys were gone, leaving one, pretty good looking body. A corpse? He wasn't breathing...

"And now we reverse time. Three weeks ago, to the very moment of the death of Joey Wheeler. He shall live, and destiny shall reassert itself."

"Hold on...!" Seto declared, stopping Shadi in his tracks. "You never said any of that before!"

The look the Egyptian gave him was withering. "What did you think was going to happen, Seto Kaiba?"

But the billionaire wasn't about to be distracted. "He saved my life. He got me and my brother out of that car and he took the bullet meant for me. Does this mean I'm going to die?" he demanded.

"No," Shadi shook his head. "Your brother will."

Two seconds of utter silence. Then...

"_What?"_ Seto erupted. "No! No way in _hell_ am I helping to kill _Mokuba!_ No freaking _way!_"

Yugi and I were both with him, but Shadi was adamant. "That is the way it happens. One death was required. You, by the power of your ancient blood, called a replacement sacrifice for your brother. But Joey Wheeler was not supposed to die; his destiny is too great, too bound up with the future of this world. To save the world, Mokuba Kaiba must die."

"Then the world can go screw itself!" Seto declared, and I can't blame him. I know how close he is to his brother.

I turned to Shadi. "How far back can you put us?" I asked.

"Tristan? What are you thinking?" Yami asked, but I ignored him.

"How long beforehand?"

Shadi narrowed his eyes at me. I think he knew what I was thinking. "I can place one person ten minutes before the event," he said at last.

"Will I remember this? Will I know what to do?"

He paused for a long, long time. "That...could be arranged. For a short time. Once the timeline has been corrected, all memory of the alternate future will be erased."

"And all that is required is one death?" I verified, and Shadi nodded. "Good. Let's do it."

"Tristan, what are you thinking?" Seto demanded, and my eyes met his across the circle. Fear was replacing anger. "You goddamn idiot, don't you dare go altruistic on me!"

"Been good knowing you, Seto," I said. "You're a good man. A good friend. Don't you ever forget that." I turned to Shadi. "Do it."

Shadi shouted a word in Ancient Egyptian and the Time Wizard appeared. He waved his staff, and the world around us shredded. Pegasus poofed out of existence first, leaving his Eye behind. Bakura tried to lunge for it, only to vanish himself. Yami was shouting something that sounded like, 'no!' but the wind whipped the words from his throat even as he disappeared in a cloud of sparkling dust. The circle condensed and Seto and I were only an arms length from one another now. He grabbed my hand. "Don't you dare!" he yelled. "Don't you dare do what you're planning to do!" Then he dissolved.

I looked up at Joey. His eyes were opening, chest moving as he took in a breath, and he lost the corpse-like look of the embalmed. His burial suit faded into his usual school uniform. His confused gaze met mine. "Tristan? What da heck...?"

I gave him a quick hug. "Good to see you, buddy," I said. "Take care, okay?" And then he, too, faded.

Shadi looked at me. "Remember," he said. "Ten minutes. Or else the Scales tip again, and this time, there will not be enough power to reset them."

The Egyptian was starting to evaporate, and I nodded. "Ten minutes. I understand."

And then the storm about us abated and I landed on my feet on the street. My clothes were different - the same ones I'd been wearing that day three weeks ago...

No. The ones I was wearing _now_. I had ten minutes.

I ran.


	21. Death Isn't Always What It Seems

_Well, this journey of a year's making has come to an end. Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this fic, and to all those who reviewed! This being my first attempt at fan fiction, I learned a lot. Mayhap one day I'll come back and fix some of the problem spots I only notice now that I've gotten a bit more experience under my belt... but maybe not. There's something to be said about the beauty of the created word, and the author's original intentions. _

_That said, thanks to all who traveled with me down this road into the Yugi-Verse. May the Fates keep your spirits safe, and the Shadows never take you!  
_

* * *

The asphalt underfoot was wet and slippery, making the footing treacherous.

I didn't care. I plowed ahead, dodging the few pedestrians that were out in this rain, weaving through traffic, nearly getting killed more than once.

How far did I have to go? I didn't know. I knew where I had to be, though, and I had ten minutes to get there. _Hang on. I'm coming. Don't let anything happen until I get there..._

I heard an explosion from the next block over and redoubled my speed. _Not gonna make it..._

I cruised around the corner just in time to see a black-clad figure step from an alley. The pounding rain bounced off of the long, smooth, metal barrel of the rifle in his hand as he raised it, pointing it at two figures huddled on the sidewalk. Joey stepped between them.

"NO!"

I flung myself at the figure, at Morrison, and the gun discharged. I felt fire rip through me, saw the darkness bubbling up in front of my eyes.

"Tristan!" Joey was at my side in an instant. "Tristan!"

His voice was distant, heard from underwater. My eyes sought past him. "Seto," I said, coughing. "He alright? Mokuba, is he okay?"

Seto appeared above me. "Yeah. He's fine. Damn it, Tristan..." He shoved Joey to one side, stripping off his shirt to clamp to my body. "Don't you dare die on me," he threatened. "Don't you dare..."

But consciousness was too hard to hold onto. I slipped back into the comforting darkness.

Death. Not too bad, all things considered. At least I know I died well.

* * *

I came-to in a world of white and a sea of pain. "Ow..."

As is the first impulse of hurt people everywhere, the first move I made was to touch the source of the pain. My shoulder. My head. A good portion of my chest.

"You were very lucky, Tristan Taylor," a voice greeted me.

I squinted against the bright lights, my surroundings gradually solidifying into a hospital room. I turned my head slightly. One eye wasn't working quite right, but with the other I managed to make out a robed figure sitting at my bedside. I groaned. "...Shadi? What the hell, man. I thought I was supposed to be dead. Didn't think being dead was going to hurt this bad."

"Your death was not required," he answered.

"What? Joey?"

"Is alive and well and very worried about you."

"Mokuba?"

"The same."

My stomach turned to ice. "Not...not Seto?"

Shadi paused in a way that made my guts twist. "No. He is alive..."

"But?" There had to be a but. His entire demeanor read, 'but'.

"But he is not the same person you knew from the alternate path."

I wrinkled my forehead, trying to understand this. "What...do you mean by that?"

The Egyptian sighed. "He was greatly changed in that timeline. The sacrifice of Joey Wheeler changed him. Your friendship changed him even more. Those three weeks were a great turning point for him. Had that future been possible... he would have become a very different man. It is the death of that future man that was required. Seto Kaiba will not remember anything of the changes he underwent. I have wiped his mind of them already. He shall grow into the destiny that was set out for him."

It took me a moment to understand this. "So... he doesn't remember _anything _of what happened?" Shadi shook his head. "Not anything? Not even our friendship...?"

Shadi wouldn't look at me. "When I came to him, he begged to be allowed to remember. I could not allow it. He was... singularly persistent. I had to erase a good portion of his hard drive and destroy several written records, to ensure that he would not recall that alternate path. Your friendship was very important to him, Tristan Taylor."

It touched me, deeply, but with sorrow as well. "That's what you meant when you said that 'all memory will be erased,' isn't it? I'm not going to remember this either, am I?"

The Egyptian shook his head. "The death of that future Seto Kaiba must be total and complete. I am sorry."

I watched as he lifted his Millennium Key to my head. Just before he tapped me with it, I grabbed his wrist. "Just do me one thing, will you?" His eyes narrowed a bit, not liking being touched, I guessed, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "You remember for us. Remember what we could have been? What _he_ could have been? That won't damage the future, if only you know of it."

He hesitated for one long minute before nodding. "I shall hold that memory in trust."

"Thank you," I breathed, letting my hand fall. I felt the end of the metal key press against my forehead, and then I knew no more.

* * *

"Tristan!"

Joey bounced my bed as he flopped down on the end and I choked down a yell of pain. "Dude! Careful!"

"You're alive!"

I rubbed my shoulder gingerly. "Yeah, and feelin' everything. Damn it, ow..."

Yugi and Tea swarmed into the room. "Tristan!"

"Hey guys!"

We all hugged, very, very carefully on my part, and then settled in.

"How's Kaiba?" I asked, after we'd gotten all the preliminaries out of the way.

Joey flapped a hand dismissively. "As stuck up and pompous as ever. Ungrateful bastard. I save his life and you take a bullet for him and he can't even unbend enough to smile."

A vague dream drifted across my memory, but it was gone, shredded to mist as I grabbed after it. "Yeah, what a jerk," I said.

"What were you doing over there anyway, Tristan?" Yugi asked, curious.

I opened my mouth to answer, then had to close it again. Why _had_ I gone charging over that direction? I'd had a reason, and a pretty compelling one at that, but for the life of me, I couldn't place it...

I shrugged. "I dunno. A feeling I guess. Like it was life-or-death that I get over there."

Joey laughed. "Hah, well, Kaiba's lucky we were there. He'da been dead meat if it weren't for Team Joey-and-Tristan!"

"Don't you mean Team Tristan and Joey?"

"Nah, doesn't flow right. Besides, I saved him first!"

"I got shot!"

"You shoulda got out of the way!"

A flicker out of the corner of my eye drew my gaze around to the doorway. Kaiba was lounging against the door frame, a smug smile playing about his lips. "Freaks," he commented.

"Oh yeah!" Joey jumped up, but Yugi pulled him down before he could make a fuss and get himself chucked out of the hospital.

"You wanted something, Kaiba?" I asked.

His gaze swept over my various bandages, assessing. "You were an idiot, jumping in the way like that," he said at last.

Joey bristled on my behalf, but I was too tired to fight him. Besides, he was right. I had been an idiot.

"Yep," I agreed.

He turned to leave, and some deep-buried thought surfaced. "Hey, Kaiba?" He didn't turn, but he did stop. "Check out Ryou Industries. I hear their financial pages make for some interesting reading."

He resumed walking, not even looking back. The gang all gave me some weird looks, but I was too tired to return them. Don't ask me why I'd said that; it just felt like the right thing to say.

* * *

My recovery didn't take long, and soon I was back at school, though I was forced to keep my arm in a sling until the gunshot wound had healed enough to allow shoulder motion.

Rumor around town reached my ears that Kaiba Corp had narrowly escaped a hostile takeover, mastermind unknown, though most folks were pointing fingers at Ryou Industries. They, of course, stoutly denied it, and no one could squeeze more than a 'no comment' out of Bakura on the matter.

And that was the end of that little adventure, aside from one small little thing.

My mother never got the bill for my medical treatment. When she asked, they told her that it had been taken care of by 'a donor who wishes to remain anonymous.'

Maybe it was Kaiba...?

Ha. Nah.

* * *

Shadi watched everything from the shadows. He really shouldn't have left that subliminal message in Tristan Taylor's mind, regarding the financial manipulations of the spirit of the Ring. It was messing with the future in ways that his order wasn't authorized to do. Still. Both boys - both men - had given up a lot, to ensure the continuation of the world. In the grand scheme of things, one small message wasn't too much to repay their sacrifice.

The Egyptian shook his head at himself for his naivety. Who knew what consequences would come of this small mercy? But even so... was it not said, you do what you must to keep your heart pure? He could not have kept a pure heart and still held in trust the memory of that alternate timeline without making some small effort to give back to the participants.

For under the skin, are not all men bound, one to another? By ties of a shared humanity, if by nothing else. Under different circumstances, all enemies may become friends, and all friends become brothers, and brothers become closer than ones own soul. This was the truth that Shadi held deep in his heart. He held out hope that maybe, someday, that other Seto Kaiba would emerge once again and become the man he ought to have been. And perhaps, just perhaps, the friendship that had been sacrificed could be kindled anew.

It was a thing worth hoping for.


End file.
